


Sweetest Devotion

by loverloverlover



Series: Until the End [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Intense friendships, M/M, Quidditch, Slow Burn, Snape sucks, also this is really gay, and growth, character driven, ill figure out the plot someday, jily, lots of love, my sapphic heart jumped out, purely self-indulgent, sixth year, the slowest of burns, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 108,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverloverlover/pseuds/loverloverlover
Summary: “I wasn't ready then, I'm ready now. I'm heading straight for you. You will only be, eternally, the one that I belong to. The sweetest devotion hitting me like an explosion.”– Adele,Sweetest DevotionIt’s sixth year at Hogwarts, and both love and war are brewing — for more than one couple. Something fishy is going on in the halls of Hogwarts, but the gang are trying to stay teens for as long as they can. A fic about falling in love and growing up in the Wizarding World.





	1. Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful betas! [SiriuslyNeville] and [drwatsonn] over on fan fiction dot net

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius leaves home and puts himself first for the first time in his life.

_“It’s so hard to leave_— _until you leave. And then it’s the easiest goddamned thing in the world.” – _John Green_, Paper Towns._

The dark, polished oak table dominated the Black family dining room. It was easily large enough to fit twelve people, with plenty of elbow room to spare, though at the moment there were only four individuals spaced out around it. It was late in the evening, and the finest china was laid out in front of Sirius, complete with several forks, two spoons, and a wine glass that appeared to be draining by itself—seemingly never full. An oppressive silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady ticking of the grandfather clock and the occasional clink of glasses. Sirius’s parents were murmuring back and forth and taking well-mannered bites of food in between their caustic comments. Walburga made one such remark now, marking the fifteenth time the word Mudblood had been used since the start of dinner.

Sirius stabbed at his plate, trying to catch one of the stray peas on the end of his fork, and the heavy silver utensil screeched against the garish plate. That earned him a glare full of heavy disapproval from Orion, though Sirius was fully aware that he was getting off lightly. He ducked his head in a false show of contrition, one that conveniently hid his expression from his parents. Once Orion felt certain his son was suitably cowed, he turned back to his wife to reply to her comment about Mudbloods—comment number sixteen—and add in one of his own about blood traitors—comment number twenty-two.

Sirius reached again for his wine glass, and forced himself to sip politely, rather than throwing the last mouthful back like he would have liked to. He glanced over at the clock and grimaced. He was smart enough to know that another glass wasn’t a good idea, even if it would’ve been worth the rebukes about his overindulgence. He reasoned, though, that he had a hard enough time keeping ahold of his temper when he was _sober_, and he didn’t need any extra trouble tonight—despite that usually being his luck, intoxicated or not.

He hid a yawn behind his hand, and tried not to fidget too much in his formal dress robes, the collar making him itch no matter that it was of the finest silk—it could’ve been made of harsh wool for all that it was agitating him. Sirius hadn’t uttered a single word other than the perfunctory ‘hello’ when he’d sat down, and so far he’d yet to be drawn into the conversation; he took another bite of his food and intended to keep it that way. It wasn’t worth it to start anything unprovoked, and arguing against his parents comments would get him nowhere. _One more hour_, he kept thinking, almost chanting it like a mantra in his head.

_One more hour… Don't snap… One more hour… Don't snap…_

“We need to start looking for a potential bride for Sirius; he is almost of age and by then all the… _better_ ones will have been spoken for,” Walburga announced as easily as if she were discussing the weather. His mother leaned forward from her perch at one end of the table, and regarded Sirius with the closest thing to fond acknowledgement he’d seen in almost five years.

As it were, he’d get happier looks from mountain trolls.

“Yes, Walburga. I have been thinking, and Avery’s daughter Rosaline _did_ just turn seventeen. I hear she is _exceptionally_ beautiful, and I am sure Sirius would be very content to have her on his arm,” Orion said, tapping his fingers on the tabletop—the only tick his father has ever outwardly showed. There’s been talk of this kind of marital nonsense for a few years now, but this is the most specific that said talk has ever gotten. His father continued: “Her family has very high status in the Ministry, not as well renowned as ours, of course, but enough to expand our influence even further if there were to be a union. We can organize a meeting next week, have an arrangement written up, and the betrothal set in motion before the start of the new term.”

“Like hell!” Sirius protested, shaking his head and reasoning that this was as good a place as any to interject into the conversation.

“I am afraid you do not have much of a choice, Sirius,” Orion said coldly, not even fazed by Sirius’s language. “It’s Pureblood custom; your mother was chosen for me by my parents, and my mother was chosen for my father by his parents.”

“I’m not going to be carted off with some Pureblood _tramp_ so you can expand the Black’s status!” Sirius exclaimed, outraged at the mere thought. He had likely already reached the point of no return and would surely be paying the price for _this_ outburst before the night was through, but truly? That thought no longer scared him.

He’d had enough. He’d suffered enough. He wanted out.

Sirius was done.

“You will marry whomever your father arranges for you, Sirius Orion Black. You cannot, and will not, go against his wishes. Your duty is to produce an heir and there is no room for your… _affliction_ in this life. You must grow out of it and move on. Rosaline Avery is marriage material and Sir Avery Senior has already had many offers on her! Her bride price is very high, Sirius,” Walburga finished, her voice tight with warning.

“Good! Then she can take one of _those_ men then! Save the unwanted expense!” Sirius retorted. “I’m not going to _pay _ some girls’ father so I can be married to her! Better yet, I will _not_ marry someone that I’ve no chance of loving!”

“Marriage is about more than _love,_ Sirius. Surely you are not so incompetent to believe any different. It can be a positive business agreement between two families to produce a respectable heir. Politics,” Orion informed, his speech slow and emphasized, as if he were talking to a young child. And he could’ve sworn that his mother muttered, “you wouldn’t be paying for it either way.”

“You mean _Pureblood_ marriages are about more than love,” Sirius scoffed, the contempt blatantly present in his voice as he tackled the most obvious flaw in the whole system. “Most people who get married do it because they _are_ in love and they _want _ to be with each other. There aren’t ulterior motives and they weren’t forced together by bigoted parents who only look out for themselves!”

His mother slowly placed her cloth napkin next to her dinner plate, and folded her fingers under her bosom as if she were a queen addressing her court.

“I will not have _my_ son _flouncing_ off to ruin the Black family name! We have had enough of those _people _ already, and you are the eldest of the only two males left to carry on our Pureblood line. You will _not_ betray us like that heinous Andromeda!” Walburga spat her name as if it would do damaging things to have it linger on her tongue for more than a second. “I will not have you besmirching the Black’s name by disobeying us on this matter. And even if it _were_ proper for you to _fall_ for someone on your _own_, you would be unable to produce heirs anyway!”

“Why can’t you just say it?” Sirius hissed. “I couldn’t have children with _him! HIM!_ And I’ve learned that true family has nothing to do with _blood_ anyway!”

“Enough!” Orion scolded.

Sirius’s back was rigid with tension, and his hands were trembling as he set down his fork; it had already left a harsh indent on his palm from the vice-like grip he held it with in an effort not to draw his wand. He _would_ have pulled out his wand, but this horseshit wasn’t anything that he hadn’t heard before. He also happened to value his existence, and he didn’t want to spend the last few minutes of his life looking at his father’s arrogant face.

This was sadly the routine around the Black home; they talk of the family members that were actually smart enough to get out like they’re nothing more than vermin and then skirt around the _true _ issue at hand. The issue, now, being his homosexuality, which his parents found out by accident and resolutely ignored in favor of marrying him off to a woman. The ironic part, is that they didn’t have a problem with his liking men— just that he’s so adamant about being true to himself. Sirius knew for a fact that his long-passed uncle was gay, but that was a non-issue as he married a woman and had three kids— gay crisis averted.

This was the overwhelmingly painful part; for his family to have such _fucked-up_ morals, embedded so deep into their brains, that they can’t think about anything else. It was so devastatingly wrong it gave him a headache. They were simply too far-gone to even try and save, and Sirius was so goddamn tired of putting forth the effort to try and rectify them.

“The more pressing matter at hand is where you snuck off to the other night… and all the nights before that for the entirety of this summer,” Orion continued, suddenly diverging into a completely different topic as if the last argument never even happened. “Surely you were wondering why I requested everyone’s presence here this evening?”

Sirius picked up his utensils and began to push his food around his plate.

“I’ve been here every night this summer; you know I always ask before I go out or stay with someone else,” Sirius said, his pseudo family voice back in place. It was a sickeningly _irritating_ voice that made him grind his teeth whenever he wasn’t speaking. There was absolutely_no way_ they could know that he leaves. He always tried to be meticulous with his comings and goings, and the only living soul within this house who even knows that he leaves is Milly. Milly, an elderly house elf, had basically raised Sirius from the age of six when his mother decided it was more important to attend high-society functions, and whore it around with men that she could then blackmail into submission, than to parent him. Raising children was a task that was sent to the backburner; presumably, she thought it a necessary burden placed upon her by the Blacks’ societal standing.

“Of course you ask,” his father began again. “You learned the hard way the first time around, so _surely_ you would not sneak out to go to that _filth_-owned Muggle… _establishment_ down the block.”

Sirius froze.

“What would make you think that?” Sirius asked, keeping his tone steady and confused. He wouldn’t raise his voice again because he knew that if he did, it would be nothing short of a confession.

“House-elves are bound by ancient magic, Sirius. It is in the archaic nature of their kind to answer any question that the head of house, their _true_ master, poses for them. You do know that I am of higher ranking in this household than you are, don’t you?” Orion asked coldly.

“Of course, Sir,” Sirius responded automatically, even though he knew the question was mocking. “I’m still confused, though.”

“Of course you are,” Walburga chimed in. “I would expect nothing less from a _brave _ and _brawny _ Gryffindor like yourself. Now imagine _my_ confusion when I checked in on you during the night and you were nowhere to be found.”

Sirius let out an involuntary scoff and his mother raised her immaculately shaped eyebrows. The small (almost minuscule—almost completely non-existent) amount of his remaining common sense flew out the window; as he could see no way out of this that didn’t end with him at the arse end of a wand, he decided he was fucked either way and it might as well be on his own terms—meaning, he was going down swinging. Like a true ‘_brave _ and _brawny_ Gryffindor.’

“Your ‘concern’ is touching mother, but it’s _quite_ obvious that you were coming to punish me for some other thing that you deemed to be _my_ fault. I’m positive that I saved myself the pain of a thorough lashing with some new curse your chauvinistic Pureblood mates taught you,” Sirius drawled, dropping his utensils with a clang and lowering his hand to finally (_finally_) rest defensively over his wand.

“So what Milly told us is true? You spent the evening in the company of Muggle filth?” Orion yelled, making Regulus start in his seat.

“Yes! I go to the ‘Muggle filth’ when you lot are going to give me a beating for something I didn’t even do! And that, once again, so-called ‘Muggle filth’ is named Donald, and he’s twice the man you’ll ever be. He’s been helping me escape your _abuse_ since I was twelve years old and–”

“MILLY!” Walburga shrieked, effectively cutting off Sirius’s speech. There was a loud _‘CRACK’_ and a small wrinkly house-elf appeared. The creature gave Sirius a quick once-over before turning back to the woman who summoned her.

“M-Mistress called for Milly?” the elderly house-elf stuttered, bowing so low that her nose grazed the shining hardwood. Her emerald green toga was baggy on her old and fragile frame, causing her to appear even smaller than she already was.

“You have failed to mention that Sirius has been leaving this house, _without permission_, for almost five years.” Walburga’s voice was frighteningly low and steady. Sirius had realized his mistake too late when the unnatural feeling of chilling goosebumps erupted on his skin—when the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.

“M-Mistress was not asking Milly how l-long’s little Sirius been goings to’s the pub’s, miss,” Milly whispered.

Walburga’s wand appeared out of nowhere and a bright red light struck the house-elf. Milly dropped to the ground clutching her face, emitting small squeaks of pain. Sirius was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet and trying to console her.

“Speak up when I am talking to you, house-elf!”

If looks could kill, Walburga Black would be dead on the floor, barely recognizable in all her gory existence. But looks didn’t kill, so Sirius regretfully had to settle for imagining it.

“M-M-Milly is very sorry m-mistress. Milly will speak up when she talks to you’s, Milly will.” The house-elf’s voice still wavered, but her tone was louder. Still, Walburga’s wand twitched dangerously.

“Why have you refused to tell us how long he has been leaving?”

“Milly wishes to protect the young master, Miss. Milly has to serves every family member in this household, so Milly must help little Sirius when he be’s in trouble, Miss,” Milly said, her voice becoming more steady than Sirius had ever heard it and losing it’s stutter for the first time in _years_. The tiny creature held herself with a seemingly newfound confidence as she spoke to his mother.

Sirius’s affection for her, impossibly, grew.

“Do not move, Milly,” Orion said lazily, leaning back in his chair and sipping his wine. “Sirius, sit down. _Now._”

Sirius, reluctantly, moved towards his seat and perched on the edge of it. He had the weird feeling that he was going to have to move very quickly.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” Walburga asked.

“Milly did no wrong, Mistress,” Milly avowed. She was stock-still, and Sirius realized why his father had told her not to move (once again, it was too late).

For the second time, Walburga’s wand moved through the air so fast that Sirius was unable to comprehend what had happened until after the fact. He watched, helpless, as a light struck the elf square in the chest and he watched, in wide-eyed silence, as Milly fell. No sound came from the tiny elf when she hit the floor—and Sirius was already there, cradling her small frame and regretting that he had just barely missed the opportunity to stop her fall. She was limp and unresponsive to Sirius’s frantic attempts to rouse her. She was gone. She was dead.

He was alone in this hellhole.

Sirius jumped up and pulled out his wand, a nasty stinging hex aimed right at his mother's face. She deflected his sloppy and impulsive spellwork easily and countered with a quick spell of her own. A searing pain shot across his chest and extended throughout his entire body; he felt blood immediately dampen the front of his robes. He choked back a gasp, attempting to muffle his grunt of pain, and settled with a deadly glower at his so-called family. Sirius cast a sad glance at his only ray of hope in this darkness, that now lay dead and slowly growing cold upon the floor beside him, before stalking out of his dining room; he was slowed by his father’s voice before he reached the doorway.

“What do you think you are doing, Sirius?” Orion asked, his voice amazingly calm considering what had just transpired.

“Leaving.”

Sirius’s voice was barely audible, but determined all the same. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge his father, or even stop walking for that matter, before taking the stairs two at a time up to his room. He threw as many of his belongings into his still half-packed school trunk as he could—even the things that he hadn’t used in a while as he knew he’d never again set foot in this house. Finally, Sirius paused at the door and gave his poster-lined bedroom one last fleeting glance, lingering bitterly on the one with the bikini clad Muggle girl on a motorcycle that he had tacked up two years ago as both a desperate attempt to redirect his thoughts and to piss off his parents, before lugging his things down the stairs. His family was still down the hall in the dining room. It seemed as if they didn’t understand what he meant by ‘leaving’—or they simply didn’t give a shit. Sirius was betting on the latter. He scowled once more before reaching for the ostentatiously carved door handle, but the floorboards creaked quietly behind him—too quietly to be his parents—and he stopped.

Sirius turned back and caught his brother’s eyes. Regulus was still clutching his napkin, twisting the ends of the dark fabric between his narrow fingers. Regulus was the one person that Sirius could always read like an open book—his emotions written across the glint in his eyes and the curve of his mouth like a well-known nursery rhyme. It was no different now, and Sirius had the insane fantasy that Regulus was about to follow him out the door.

“Come with me?” Sirius asked, his voice low and pained.

Regulus straightened up and, for all intents and purposes, he looked perfectly composed. “I’ll see you at school,” he replied, his voice cracking.

Sirius nodded once, and Regulus looked like he wanted to say more, but he turned back towards the dining room without another word. Sirius yanked open the door, angry for even more reasons now, and he practically threw his trunk over the threshold.

It was pouring.

His trunk landed in a generous puddle at the bottom of the front stoop.

The number of expletives that spewed out of his mouth would make even the most provocative of sailors blush. He stalked down the four stairs he was never allowed to play on as a child and gave his trunk a swift kick, screaming loudly into the night—his hair and clothes already drenched.

A streak of lightning shot across the sky, illuminating the desolate street.

Sirius pulled out his wand and set to work scorching the trees across the way, screaming the incantations until his voice was hoarse—just needing to get rid of this _energy_ that was careening through his veins. When there were no more trees for him to burn, and the rain had turned what would’ve been a row of rather large torches into smoking ruins, he took several deep breaths and steadied himself.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation on where he would go; the problem was getting there. Potter Manor was _miles_ away, all the way on the west side of England, and Sirius wasn’t of age yet, so he decided not to push his luck with gaining the attention of authorities (if he hadn’t already with his show of destroying the trees) or losing the privilege of having all his body parts by Apparating. He groaned when he looked in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, the only means of Floo network within a however many mile distance, and left the thought of heading in that direction behind him. He didn’t want to run into any… _unwanted _ individuals while in an injured state, so that meant no interaction with the magical community. And selfishly, he needed a kind, familiar face right now. Wincing, he lifted his trunk and pulled it along. He could at least have a drink while he figured out what to do.

He began the short and familiar trek to the Muggle pub around the next block. He’d been coming here since he figured out how to sneak out of his house undetected, and it was pure chance that this happened to be the first place he stumbled into. Sneaking out used to be easy— like clockwork— but he got cocky and selfish, leaving every night instead of once a week. And now Milly was dead. And it was all his fault.

He set out for the pub anyway.

The barman was an old and withered man with a wispy white beard that could rival only that of Albus Dumbledore. His voice was low and gruff, but his hands gentle and caring—rough and worn with age. When Sirius had first shown up, he was only twelve years old; the man behind the counter had wrapped a bandage around his bleeding arm, stuck a plate of hot food under his chin, and insisted that he eat. He hated to say that there was a small moment of hesitation as his mother’s voice entered his brain, telling him that Muggles are animals, that they’re barbaric and will stop at nothing to kill him and the entirety of wizarding kind. But Sirius had pushed those thoughts away and merely nodded and mumbled a small ‘thank you’ before relishing in the prospect of eating food _not _ made in the wizarding world… he’d never had it before.

That had been the extent of their conversation for two whole years; which is to say, there was absolutely no conversation. Sirius would come in and Donald would clean his cuts without question, then feed him and let him stay until the bar closed at around two in the morning. It was only last summer that they had started exchanging short snippets of sentences and only _this_ summer that they began having actual conversations. Sirius let slip small and insignificant factors of his everyday life and if he were actually a Muggle, Donald would’ve simply thought him crazy or from a family of different and weird customs. It was then that a startling fact was revealed, and the reason Donald didn’t send Sirius packing the instant he started talking of curses, house-elves, and Hogwarts.

Donald Forbs was a squib.

That was also why he hadn’t gone to the Muggle authorities when a battered and bloody boy started showing up at his bar every other week. The curses used to near _annihilate_ Sirius’s skin were familiar to the old man, for the same scars still adorn his own wrinkled frame. Donald had simply waited for Sirius to open up to him before he informed him of the ‘small-piece-of-insignificant-information’, as Donald had put it, about himself.

That had made conversation considerably easier because now Sirius could really let go when he ranted and not have to worry about breaking the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. It wouldn’t do him any good to have his parents _and_ the Ministry of Magic coming down on him.

Sirius rounded the last corner, pushed open the old door to the pub, and was immediately assaulted with the now familiar aroma of fried foods and alcohol. He set his trunk next to the door and met Donald’s stare behind the bar. A somber expression flitted across the old man’s face and there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

“You’ve left for good, eh Sirius?” he questioned, his Scottish accent thick.

“I should’ve left years ago,” Sirius said quietly, “when it first started.”

Donald nodded and motioned for him to take his usual seat in the middle of the bar.

“Think you can give me an actual drink?” Sirius asked wearily, taking his normal seat at the bar. “I’ve had a hell of a night.”

“Just this once,” Donald relented easily, sighing as he placed the pitcher of juice back in its place. “Ya had better not go rattin’ me out to the police.”

“What’s a _police?”_ Sirius asked, trying to be more difficult than usual.

Shaking his head in amusement, and not even bothering to give Sirius an answer, Donald placed a short, wide glass on the counter and filled it a knuckle length with a copper colored substance.

“Closest thing ta Firewhiskey we got, son,” Donald informed quietly.

Sirius downed it in one go and didn’t even grimace as the alcohol slid down his throat. He motioned for Donald to fill it again. With a small chuckle and a raised eyebrow, the man obliged and Sirius took a smaller sip this time, knowing he wasn’t going to get another.

“Where’d ya learn ta drink like that?” Donald asked, placing the bottle back on the shelf.

“I go to Hogwarts, and I grew up in a Pureblood home, Don. We’ve got a huge-arse wine cellar in our basement and young barmaids in Hogsmeade are a _lot_ easier to sweet-talk into a drink than you are.” Sirius smirked. He tipped his glass in Donald’s direction in a sort of salute before taking another sip.

“That would be true.” Donald nodded and softened his voice before he continued. “Ya really shouldn’t drink so much though. It’s a bad habit ta get into at such a young age. Speaking from experience, myself.”

Sirius sighed and looked down into his drink, letting his thoughts wander and his head pound. He swirled the glass around and watched as the amber liquid nearly spilled over the side, but managing to catch it and have it fall back in at the last second. It was actually mesmerizing to watch.

“Do you have a place ta go?” Donald asked. He hadn’t moved from his place behind the bar.

“Yeah,” Sirius mumbled. “I’m just not sure how I’m going to get there.”

“I could call ya a taxi,” Donald suggested. “I don’t know how close it can get ya ta where ya want tu go, but it’s a start.”

“Not bloody likely,” Sirius protested. “There is absolutely _no _ way that you’ll get me to ride in one of those Muggle death traps!”

The two other patrons stared at Sirius after his outburst and looked away quickly as he added, “A motorcycle would be cool though… bet you I could charm it to fly.”

“I bet ya’ ya could, but a taxi sounds like ya best bet a’this point in time…”

“Yeah, yeah, I already know,” Sirius conceded. “How long will it take for this ‘tali’ thing? And it costs money, right? Like Muggle money? Because I don’t have any of that. I have no money on me at all, actually.”

“A _taxi, _ Sirius. And don’t worry, son. I’ll cover the bill for you.”

“I can’t let you do that. I don’t want you to think that–”

“I don’t,” Donald interrupted. “I don’t think anything. I can cover the taxi, I just want you to get to your destination safely.”

Sirius nodded and was unable to respond—his generosity, although common from Donald, was still alien for Sirius to experience.

“I’ll call it right now, Sirius,” Donald informed. “It usually takes around fifteen minutes for the cars tu get here, and then however long it’ll take for ya ta get where yer going.” The man gave a noncommittal shrug. “Do ya want some food? I’ve got a little left over from the evenin’ rush.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Donald bustled into the back room and emerged from the kitchen five minutes later with a plate full of chicken and a small helping of green beans. Even though he’d just eaten, Sirius picked up a fork immediately, needing to do something with his hands. So, he ate in silence and the reality of his situation finally sunk in when his adrenaline reluctantly subsided.

The burning of the trees seemed to only be a temporary fix.

He left.

He wasn’t going back. Ever.

Sirius swallowed thickly and his fork clattered to the countertop as he growled a low, _“Fuck.”_ Sirius swiveled the chair around and stumbled up, catching himself on the bar and letting out a ragged breath. He started pacing in front of the bar, pulling at his hair, breathing rapidly, and mumbling under his breath. Donald, taking notice, threw his rag on the bar and hastily made his way around it—wobbling on his bad hip and holding his beard down so it couldn’t fly up in his face.

“Sirius, Sirius calm down. It’s al’ight,” Donald soothed.

Sirius laughed darkly.

“No it’s not! I’m_sixteen years old,_ and I just left my family! I’ll be disowned, Donald! I have no money. I’m underage. I’m a_Black_.” He paused. “I am Sirius _Black_ and I’m part of one of _the most_ prominent wizarding families _ever_ and I _LEFT!_ I threw it all away!”

His thoughts were running a million miles a minute and he couldn’t seem to focus on just one.

“She _killed_ Milly, Donald!” Sirius cried, his voice breaking. “My mother killed the only creature that cared about me in that fucked-up house… right in front of me. She didn’t even think twice about it because Milly was a house-elf—less than, and unimportant. She stuttered when she talked, Milly did—she couldn’t help it, my parents traumatized her and she was terrified of them. I would’ve given her clothes if I could’ve, but only my father could do that. But then again, even if I could I don’t think I would’ve, I’m too much of a selfish person for that.”

“Ya are _not_ a selfish person, Sirius,” Donald stressed, trying desperately to keep up with Sirius’s rapid-fire thoughts. “Ya wouldn’t ‘ave survived in that ‘ouse if it wasn’t for ‘er. She allowed ya ta ‘ave a temporary escape from it all, and I’m almost positive, even if I’ve never met ‘er, that she would ‘ave _never_ left ya there on yer own. _You _ are no selfish a’ person Sirius Black.”

“No, but I _am_. I only thought of myself when I left. I kept a house-elf around purely for my own intentions and-and I left my brother there all alone. Merlin! My _brother,_ I have to go back—I’ll _drag _ him out by his _ear_ if I have to! I can’t–”

“Sirius, stop.”

“I don’t want him to end up like me, Don,” Sirius whispered miserably—his voice dropping several levels in volume.

“Now why would ya go and say somethin’ like that?” Donald asked. “He’d be a lucky bugger if he was ‘alf the man yer gonna be. Yer too ‘ard on yerself, son.”

“But I’m so fucked-up Donald,” Sirius whispered, his throat becoming tight. “And I’m scarred, so scarred… both literally and figuratively speaking. I’m lucky I escaped there with half of my sanity, let alone my life. Home life should _not_ be that hard; home life should be loving, and carefree, and you shouldn’t have to spend every waking moment fearing for your life.” Sirius absently applied pressure to his chest wound and let out a barely audible groan of pain.

“What’s wrong with yer chest?” Donald asked, zeroing in on the motion.

“N-nothing. It’s just a scratch, honestly. Nothing I haven’t had before.”

“Sirius Black!” Donald’s voice was stern and left no room for argument. He hated when Don’s voice got like that. Wordlessly, Sirius undid his dress robes and slowly and meticulously pulled his bloodstained black button-up open, revealing his bleeding chest to Donald. The cold air stung quite a bit. There was a deep gash that ran from one collarbone to just below the opposite pectoral muscle, yet it didn’t appear deep enough to be fatal to any organs. Blood was everywhere, giving his chest a dark red sheen and turning his newly inked, black tattoos a sickly color.

“Good Lord, my boy!” A bar patron gasped.

“We need to call you an ambulance!” the other man added.

“Donald, don’t call anyone. Mrs. P can fix me up, and Muggle methods probably wouldn’t work on this anyway. It’s from a curse, not a knife,” Sirius said, ignoring the two other men present.

“I can wrap it up for ya if ya’d like, or at least clean it up a little? I’ve still got all the supplies in the back.”

At Sirius’s nod, Donald disappeared and then reappeared just as quickly, the usual gauze and wrappings clutched in his hand. He ran a finger down the outskirts of the laceration and Sirius hissed quietly. As always, Donald was humming off-tune as he worked. It was slow going, but the mannerisms were practiced and the wrappings snug. A horn sounded twice from outside the bar, but Donald didn’t increase his pace, focusing only on Sirius’s wound. It wasn’t two minutes later, though, that Sirius was gingerly pulling his shirt back around his shoulders and shrugging his dress robes on as well.

“Thank you for everything Donald, really.”

Sirius held out his hand, but Donald stepped forward and hugged him firmly, albeit gently so as not to further agitate his chest. Sirius embraced the man right back and stifled a surprised sniffle and a not-so-surprising grunt of pain. Donald eventually pulled out of the embrace, but continued to grip Sirius’s shoulders tightly.

“Come and visit me,” Donald said. “I don’t want ya ta forget the old man down the street, al’ight?”

Sirius could only nod, not trusting his voice at the moment. Donald dropped his arms and allowed Sirius to drain the rest of his drink and head towards the door. He gave the bar a longer glance than he spared his own house before nodding to Donald, lugging his trunk out the door, and then heaving the thing into the back of the taxicab.

.:..:.

The ride to the village near Potter Manor was long and the walk from the village to the actual house was even longer. When he finally saw the silhouette of the huge manor, he was pale from the cut on his front and clutching an unfamiliar stitch in his side.

The gates opened on their own accord, recognizing his friendly aura as an allotted guest; he trudged up the entranceway and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

Mid knock, the door opened and revealed his pajama clad best friend, James Potter. Sirius leaned against the doorframe and tried not to show how terrible he actually felt. James had on his usual pair of red and gold plaid pajama bottoms and a simple black t-shirt. His black hair was as unruly as ever and his hazel eyes were pinched in concern behind his square glasses. Sirius opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish, trying to find the words to tell his best friend that he had left. That he had nowhere to go.

“I-I um…” Sirius trailed off.

“You left,” James supplied.

Sirius nodded, happy that his friend was so well attuned to him.

“Well, come in then. Leave your trunk by the door and head to the living room. I’ll get Mum and Dad.” James left Sirius stunned on the threshold. It took him a while to pull together the strength to walk into the house and head down the hall, for the ache in his chest was getting almost unbearable. No longer was it a dull burn, but a non-stop throbbing ‘bring-you-to-your-knees’ type of pain. So, he sunk to the floor when he reached the living room, and buried his head between his knees, forming a ball and curling into himself as best he could to try and minimize his pain.

“What are you doing on the floor?” James asked.

“Your furniture’s too nice to stain, and even with a Scourgify, blood stains never really go away,” he mumbled.

“Where are you bleeding?” Euphemia Potter asked seriously, coming out of nowhere. Sirius looked up into the kind face of James’s mother. Mia was a no nonsense type of woman that Sirius absolutely adored. Currently, she was adorned in a dark purple dressing gown and black house-slippers. Her red hair was streaked with grey and prominent laughter lines crinkled her eyes. At the moment, though, those eyes were pinched with concern. Fleamont Potter was standing next to her, his calloused brown hand on his wife’s shoulder. Monty looked exactly as Sirius remembered: grey hair cropped to his skull, glasses dangling from the collar of his shirt, and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The only thing that was different was his expression; usually, it was relaxed, a twinkle in his eye that his son inherited, but now it was only worry that marred his features.

“Chest,” Sirius eventually ground out.

“Well, let me see it,” James’s mother ordered. “Take your robe off and lay on your back on the sofa.”

As Sirius got up and attempted to undo his shirt like he did for Donald, he realized something else. He sighed and said, “I-I can’t… um, it hurts to lift my arms to unbutton it, ma’am.”

Mia’s lips turned down into a frown and she hesitantly walked the few remaining feet that separated them. She quickly made due with his dress robe, pulled off his already untied tie, and then slowly started to undo the buttons of his shirt. He hissed a quick breath of air out between his teeth when she grazed the top of the wound as she slid the shirt slowly from his shoulders. Mia began to unwind the bloodied gauze and her expression grew tighter and tighter as she saw what was revealed. When she shifted to place the wrappings on the table, James gasped.

“Holy shit, mate! What in the bloody hell did you do?” James breathed.

“My mum’s a right nasty bitch, Prongs,” Sirius said, stretching out as best he could, as instructed, on the couch while Mia immediately went to work on his chest. She first Scourgified off the blood and sanitized the gash, not wanting to make anything worse by creating the possibility for an infection. At one point, Sirius registered that Monty left and came back with an embroidered potions bag. The pain lessened with each stroke of Mia’s wand, and she worked for over half an hour before performing one last spell. Sirius could feel his wound closing and he let out a sigh of relief when she cast a cooling charm over his inflamed flesh.

“Here, Sirius, drink this. It’s a blood-replenishing potion, and it’ll relieve the light-headedness and the lethargy you feel in your limbs,” she instructed him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Sirius said. He downed the foul smelling liquid in one go and curled his face into the soft upholstery of the couch, inhaling its welcoming scent.

This place had always smelled more like home than his own house did.

“No more of that ‘ma’am’ business, Sirius. You’ve never bothered with such formalities before and it makes me feel quite old,” Mia scolded halfheartedly, lovingly pushing a couple strands of Sirius’s hair out of his face.

Sirius looked up at her, propping his head up on his hand and turning to give her a full view of his chest. He forced a cheeky grin.

“Yes ma’am.”

She playfully shoved his hair back into his face, and he laughed quietly as he collapsed back down onto the sofa.

“I know that you know your way around by now, but James can show you to the spare rooms and you can pick one,” Monty said, standing by James with a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Pick one, sir?” Sirius asked. He stood up and gathered his dress robes in his arms.

“Well, yeah. You live here now, right? Don’t tell us you’re thinking about going back?” James asked.

“Of course I’m bloody well not going _back_. You think I’ve got a death wish?” Sirius asked. “I just don’t want to intrude on you lot too much. You’ve got summer plans and-and you're going to Paris and your-um-your beach house… in Majorca! I can’t—no, I _won’t_ intrude on your family time,” Sirius finished. “It’s not your fault my family’s a load of shit.”

“You’re bloody mad, mate!” James laughed, “We were going to take you with us anyway. There was no way I was going to leave you with your fucking–”

“Language,” Mia and Monty chided in unison. Even though there was no heat behind their scolding, James paid them a quick grimacing glance and backtracked.

“With your fudgenutting demented family for a whole summer. We were going to come and get you tomorrow after breakfast!” James finished, his choice of words letting a real smile grace Sirius’s face for the first time that night.

Sirius looked between James’s parents for confirmation. They merely smiled and Sirius started to laugh.

“Did I tell you they were talking about marrying me off to Rosaline Avery?” Sirius chuckled.

“No way?” James smiled. “You should’ve taken it, mate. She’s one fit bird.”

“Fit or not, _she’s_ a Pureblood, Prongs,” Sirius said. “And a stuck-up one at that.” He led the way out of the living room and headed to the stairs.

“_You’re _ a Pureblood, Padfoot,” James reminded.

“Exactly. I’m either not getting married at all or I’ll find someone my parents would vehemently disapprove of—maybe a cute Muggleborn like you–” James scoffed, “–but I’m betting on the former… I’m not really a marriage type of bloke.”

“Right now you’re not, but that might change, Padfoot.”

“No it won’t, mate,” Sirius chuckled.

“Not even with McKinnon? You’ve had a crush on her for years,” James smirked.

“I do _not _ fancy McKinnon, James.”

“Funny Sirius, I don’t really fancy Evans, either.”

Sirius scowled, not understanding how his dismissal of this argument was never taken at face value. He knew how to stop it entirely, of course, but it wasn’t the time yet. He wasn’t ready to tell James… especially after how his family reacted to finding out. He knew, of course, that James wouldn’t treat him any differently, but that innate fear of rejection was still illogically harbored in his chest.

“Sod off, Prongs. Mind if I find a room tomorrow?” Sirius asked. “I don’t fancy gallivanting around your manor to find the best room at the mo’.” His voice was uncharacteristically small, and he couldn’t bring himself to look his best friend in the eye. He sort of hated himself for it, but James just threw his arm around Sirius’s tense shoulders and smiled.

“Sure thing mate,” James said, dropping his arm and walking into his bedroom. Sirius visibly relaxed and let out the quiet breath he’d been keeping trapped in his chest. James paused and turned back to face Sirius, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Nice tattoos, mate.” James chuckled.

Sirius let yet another smile grace his lips before following his friend into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, thanks for reading! I’ve made a playlist for this fic that you can find here: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6k6761IOT93vZmdO3UUrY1?si=k9OMVvFfTCuW4Bb2OKPHrA
> 
> So, I hope you’ll stick with me for the long haul because, in my biased opinion, I think it's totally going to be worth it!
> 
> Thank you to my amazing betas: drwatsonn and SiriuslyNeville. This story would honestly be no where without all of your amazing input, and I appreciate a thousand-fold all that you did for me <3
> 
> You can also find me on twitter @_rosesconnor
> 
> Comments and Kudos will fuel me :))


	2. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James calls in reinforcements, and Sirius grieves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my wonderful beta's [SiriuslyNeville] and [drwatsonn] over on fanfictiondotnet :))

_“I believe pain breeds wolves and joy gives rise to moons. We grow forests in our bones so our memories can’t find us. I believe we hide and haunt ourselves.” – Pavana_

James Potter was on the couch in his den, lazily flipping through a Quidditch magazine, when the alarm for the front gate sounded throughout the room. He looked to his parents, silently trying to determine if they were expecting a visitor. When he was met with quizzical stares from both of them, he groaned into a standing position and ambled to the front door, stretching the kinks out of his back as he went. Without any preamble, he wrenched the front door open and was shocked by who was standing on his doorstep.

Sirius Orion Black, his _best_ friend, stood at the threshold, looking despondent. He was leaning against the doorframe with one arm draped somewhat protectively over his chest, his black hair drenched and hanging limp in front of his face. There was a patchy shadow on his jawline where the beginnings of a beard were attempting to grow. He was clad in expensive dress robes that _seemed_ to be casually unbuttoned, but the vacant look in his eye was off putting. Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times, stuttering over his breath, and looking as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Situations for why Sirius was mysteriously on his doorstep—at ten at night in the rain, no less—flew through his brain in dizzying speeds. But the only conclusion that seemed even remotely plausible was that, “You left.”

Sirius nodded.

“Well come in then. Leave your trunk by the door and head to the living room. I’ll get Mum and Dad,” he said. James turned to leave, but not before he caught sight of Sirius’s flabbergasted expression. He left Sirius there, though, and made his way back down the hall to the room he’d recently vacated, reasoning that, in his own time, Sirius would move through the doorway. James’s parents were staring at him expectantly when he re-entered the den, and he guessed that they’d already figured out who was at the door after taking stock of his expression.

“What is it James?” his mother asked, her knitting needles resting in her lap. “What’s wrong with Sirius? Is he alright?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. He ran out on his family, though, and he looks like he’s been outside in the rain for hours.”

“Did you just _leave him_ outside?” his mother asked, getting to her feet and sounding scandalized at the very notion.

“Of _course_ not, Mum,” James defended. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “He’s in the front living room, but… you guys should come. Something was off about him.”

It wasn’t until James was looking at his friend curled up on the floor that he knew how much his words rang true. Sirius’s head was buried in-between his knees and his breathing was labored, and James had been in this situation with Padfoot and Wormtail so many times after a full moon with Remus that he knew immediately what was wrong: Sirius was in pain.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked, unable to actually come up with any _useful_ questions.

“Your furniture’s too nice to stain,” Sirius answered, without even lifting his head. “And even with a _scorgify_, blood stains never really go away.”

_Blood?_

“Where are you bleeding?” his mother asked. Always the practical one, his mother was.

“Chest,” Sirius mumbled. His voice was ragged, but he covered it up well. James only knew because he’d spent so much time with Sirius and he’d heard it before—again, mostly after a full moon spent in rendezvous with Remus.

“Well, let me see it; take your robe off and lay on your back on the sofa.” His mother smiled, her voice soothing. James saw the instant that Sirius’s façade shifted, his vulnerable side rearing its head. He looked defeated.

“I-I can’t… um, it hurts to lift my arms to unbutton it, ma’am.”

James frowned. He watched his mother walk hesitantly the rest of the way into the room and slowly unbutton his friends dress robes. Sirius let out a pained hiss when the clothing was pushed off his shoulders. His friend was wrapped in white gauze from his chest to his belly button and blood was soaked through a lot of it. When his mother eventually unwrapped him, the blood coated his chest in a red sheen, and James was worried about the darker spots before he realized they were tattoos. _That was new,_ James thought. It wasn’t any deeper than other wounds he’d seen on his best mate, but this one looked like it’d been bleeding for a while.

“Holy shit, mate! What the bloody hell did you do?” James breathed.

“My mum’s a right nasty bitch, Prongs,” Sirius said, lying down on the couch. They stayed silent from then on while his mother worked.

It was a half hour of painful silence before his mother broke the air. “Here, Sirius, drink this. It’s a blood-replenishing potion and it’ll relieve the light-headedness and the lethargy you feel in your limbs.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Sirius said as he drank the dark red liquid and grimaced at the taste. James exchanged a concerned look with his father as Sirius curled his face into the couch.

“No more of that ‘ma’am’ business, Sirius. You’ve never bothered with such formalities before, and it makes me feel quite old,” his mother chided, but with a loving undertone that she frequently uses with James. Sirius’s signature smirk was back and he was leaning up on his elbow. James knew what was going to spew out of Sirius’s mouth before he even said it.

“Yes ma’am.”

James snorted and his mother messed up Sirius’s hair.

“I know that you know your way around by now, but James can show you to the spare rooms and you can pick one,” his dad said, speaking for the first time.

“Pick one, Sir?” Sirius asked.

“Well, yeah. You live here now, right? Don’t tell us you’re going back?” James asked. He was appalled at the very idea.

“Of course I’m bloody well not going back. You think I’ve got a death wish?” Sirius asked. “I just don’t want to intrude on you lot too much. You’ve got summer plans and-and your going to Paris and your-um-your beach house… in Majorca! I can’t—no, I _won’t_ intrude on your family time,” Sirius finished. “It’s not your fault my family’s a load of shit.”

“You’re bloody mad, mate!” James laughed, unable to hold it in any longer. “We were going to take you with us anyway. There was no way I was going to leave you with your fucking–”

“Language,” his parents scolded him. James backtracked even though he knew they were doing it only for the illusion of showing they cared for his speaking habits.

“With your fudgenutting demented family for a whole summer. We were going to come and get you tomorrow after breakfast!” James finished. He grinned at his best mate when Sirius looked between him and his parents and started to laugh.

“Did I tell you they were talking about marrying me off to Rosaline Avery?” Sirius chuckled.

“No way?” James smiled, indulging his friend. “You should’ve taken it mate, she’s one fit bird.”

“Fit or not, _she’s_ a Pureblood, Prongs,” Sirius said. “And a stuck up one at that.” Sirius finished as James followed him out of his living room and towards the stairs.

_“You’re_ a Pureblood, Padfoot,” James reminded.

“Exactly. I’m either not getting married at all or I’ll find someone my parents would vehemently disapprove of—maybe a cute Muggleborn like you–” James scoffed, “–but I’m betting on the former… I’m not really a marriage type of bloke.”

“Right now you’re not, but that might change, Padfoot.”

“No it won’t, mate,” Sirius chuckled.

“Not even with McKinnon? You’ve had a crush on her for years.” James smirked.

“I do _not_ fancy McKinnon, James,” came Sirius’s usual response.

“Funny Sirius, I don’t really fancy Evans, either.”

Sirius scowled.

“Sod off, Prongs. Mind if I find a room tomorrow?” Sirius asked. “I don’t fancy gallivanting around your manor to find the best room at the mo’.”

The vulnerability in Sirius’s voice was present in the small way that he spoke. He knew that Sirius was avoiding the _real _ question that he wanted to ask, but James wasn’t going to push him after the night he’d had. James couldn’t resist throwing his arm around his friend’s shoulders, happy that Sirius was with him now and not somewhere where _anything_ could happen. Sirius was tense under his arm, though, but James pretended not to notice because he knew that it was involuntary.

“Sure thing mate,” James said, dropping his arm and watching Sirius deflate. James zeroed in on the new additions that he’d noticed earlier and shook his head, trying to hold in his laugh.

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Nice tattoos, mate.” James chuckled.

.:..:.

James woke with a start. He was shivering and cold in the wake of his nightmare, but he wasn’t sure why he was feeling this way. He looked briefly around his dark room, but it just sent another chill through his body. He was too tired to deal with anything right now, though, so he rolled over and once more succumbed to a fitful slumber. When he awoke for the second time, sunlight had replaced the moonlight streaming in through the open window and a giant shaggy dog was curled up at his feet.

Sirius.

James’s heart clenched for his best mate. He couldn’t pretend to understand what Sirius was going through, for he grew up in a loving home with parents who cared for him. He can attempt to distract him though and hopefully, in the end, make him feel better about the entire ordeal—reassure him that he had a place he could call home and people who loved him without the worry of it someday being torn out of his grasp.

The first step was simple: The Marauders.

James carefully extracted himself from the tangle of bed sheets and left Sirius slumbering quietly, his left ear twitching slightly. He made his way to his father’s study and rummaged the drawers in search of spare parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. James sunk into his father’s chair and began to write.

_Wormtail, _

_Sirius left his family. I don’t know any of the details about what went down, but he slept as Padfoot at the foot of my bed last night, which you know isn’t a good sign. Find a way to get here, if by Floo or broomstick or a fucking Thestral it doesn’t matter, but he needs everyone here even if he won’t admit it. But if you absolutely cannot find a way here, write me back and my mum will come and get you by Apparition. (Wouldn’t be a problem at all, mate.)_

_See you soon,_

_Prongs_

James stuffed the letter unceremoniously into an envelope, hastily addressed it, and began to write another.

_Moony,_

_Sirius finally left those bastards for good. He’s staying at my house, but I don’t think he’s doing so well. He slept at the foot of my bed as Padfoot last night, and we both know what that means. I know it’s close to your time of the month, and you’re probably not at your best, but I know he would want you here and that you’d want to know what was going on. I just wanted to let you know about his situation. Can you foreword Wormtail’s letter onto him please? (My mother’s owl is out at the moment, so we only have the family one, and I wanted to get these out to you guys before Padfoot woke up.) _

_Rest up, Moony, and feel better._

_Prongs_

The scrawl was barely legible, but James’s handwriting had been this way for years and it likely always would. The letters were cramped and tilted slightly to the left in his rush to get the words onto the paper. He wasn’t worried though, for Remus Lupin has had years of practice trying to decipher James’s writing. Without even a second thought he tied both the letters to Kingsman and sent the owl on his way. James stood there and watched the eagle owl fly until it was barely a speck on the horizon.

James stood there long after it was gone.

Thinking.

Contemplating.

Sirius Black only slept in his Animagus form when he craved attention, but didn’t want, or didn’t know how, to ask for it. This was when he actually _physically_ craved it, and not the fake kind that comes from a single encounter or conversation, but an actual connection—with an arm slung over the shoulders or a solid weight on the back of his neck. It was usually right before breaks in term occurred and he was forced to return to his home. He wouldn’t go home at all, but his parents required his presence for at _least_ a couple of days to keep up appearances with Pureblood society. They would attend a few functions as a _‘family,’_ but James knew that Sirius resented the lot of ‘em.

Growing up, Sirius was force-fed the Pureblood traditions and treated like a prince because he was the heir to the Black fortune and his parents wouldn’t have _dreamed_ of treating him as anything less. He was still fairly young when his parents realized that he wasn’t going to be their poster child. James still doesn’t know what triggered it, as Sirius refuses to bring it up, but the little love his mother had shown him was suddenly gone. It only got worse after Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor and met people who further challenged what his parents had taught him.

James knows that it would have been tough for a child who grew up in a ‘loving’ home, even if it _was_ a bigoted one, to one-day step off the train and be treated like a complete outcast. To suddenly have the constant fear that he would do something to anger his parents. It would have been an extremely difficult home environment to grow up in, but James can only empathize so much because he grew up in the most loving home he believed to be physically possible.

Childhood should be carefree, full of smiles and laughter and lightly skinned knees or elbows… not living a nightmare in a place that’s supposed to be a sanctuary.

Sirius was a very reserved individual, and he covered up his pain with a mask that had only been perfected with age. When he was going through something, he used wit and sarcasm to work his way through the day, and at night… he curled up into a black ball at the foot of one of his friends’ beds and then pretended nothing happened when he awoke the next day.

Or there was the other side of Sirius. The side you never wanted to face: _Enraged_ Sirius.

Sirius would lash out and scream until he had no voice left. Things would be broken and his fists would be bloodied; there would be bits of plaster scattered everywhere, holes in the walls and smoldering curtain hangings. Sirius would be a mess. This outcome appears very rarely though because Sirius was taught to see lashing out as a sign of weakness… and some teachings never really slip away. His parents would have his head if it had ever occurred at his house despite it being _monstrously _hypocritical of them.

It was no wonder that Sirius was so reserved.

A small motherly hand stirred James from his thoughts and brought him back to the present. It rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades, but did little to ease the tension in his back.

“James… are you alright?” Mia Potter asked.

“Yeah, Mum. _I’m_ fine,” he replied.

She took a moment to respond, and James could picture the turbulent of emotions flickering across her face. James knew that she had always wanted more kids, but when she couldn’t have them, she found them instead in James’s friends. Sirius was very close to her heart, and he knew that she felt his pain and wished she could shoulder it herself. James was similar to his mother in that respect. Eventually, she let out a sad and tired breath before asking a question she already knew the answer to.

“Are you worried about Sirius?”

James nodded.

“He seemed fine last night when he came in… I mean apart from the obvious. That was a dangerous wound that he had. I reckon a few more minutes on his own and he would’ve passed out from blood loss. That wrapping saved him.”

James rubbed his temples and the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He let loose a long sigh.

“We should’ve gotten him out of there a long time ago, Mum,” James said.

“They _are_ his family though—a very wealthy Pureblood family at that, James. There’s really nothing concrete we would have been able to do about his situation—except maybe make it worse. These things are tricky, honey. I know he’s not taking it as well as he’s letting on, but he doesn’t seem to be struggling too much with the fact that his family isn’t going to be a prominent fixture in his life anymore… I wouldn’t worry as much as you do, sweetheart, you’ll burn yourself out,” his mother said.

“But that’s how he_is,_ Mum… he puts on this mask to stop people from worrying about him. We _need_ to worry about him, though, or he’ll begin to feel that he really doesn’t have anyone that does. He’ll feel as if he doesn’t even _exist._ If you don’t know him though, you don’t notice it… his mask that is. Sometimes you still don’t notice it—hell I mess up all the time and somehow set him off—but then you wake up, and he’s in your bed because he couldn’t sleep alone, and…” James sighed, but his mother stayed silent so he started to spill more. “He doesn’t let anyone in… _ever._ When bad shit like this happens to him, he shrinks into his shell and that’s it. Bye-bye, Padfoot.”

“He’ll talk to you when he’s ready, James. I think he’s still processing what he did… he’s in shock. Just try and imagine yourself in his shoes. His family is probably going to disown him and everyone he’s related to will eventually turn on him.” Mia laughed dryly before continuing. “Maybe he can just get another tattoo and you guys can take him to that pub up in the village.”

“Yeah, that was a bit of a surprise, wasn’t it? He didn’t even _owl me_ when he got ‘em done.” A few seconds passed before James chuckled. “Anyway, the pub bit sounds like _exactly_ what we’re going to do, thanks for the tip.”

“Just don’t have too many drinks, James,” his mother warned, ruffling his hair. “I don’t want you lot to go off and get in trouble with the Muggle authorities… _again._”

“No promises there, Mum,” James smiled. He made a mental note to heed her warnings though, not wanting to take advantage of the freedom and leniency that she granted him. “And in our defense, we weren’t even drunk last time, I swear it. We were just a little too loud—turns out the Muggles don’t like that much.”

His mother laughed lightly and then they stood in silence; with Mia Potter’s chin resting on her sons shoulder, they watched the sky steadily turn from an array of reds and oranges to a light blue and a smattering of white fluffy clouds. The few birds that decided to make an appearance chirped happily from their perch on the marble fountain on the back patio. There were two brown bunnies scampering across the expansive lawn and darting between bushes in attempts to not stay out in the open for too long. James and his mother just stood, basking in the silence and each other’s presence, and trying, for him at least, to put themselves in Sirius’s shoes.

“What are you guys looking at?” Sirius asked. He was surprisingly close and caused both Potters to jump. “Sheesh guys.” Sirius laughed. “Keep your knickers on.”

“Oh shush up, you,” his mother chided and once again playfully ruffling Sirius’s hair. “Let’s go eat with your old man.”

.:..:.

James and Sirius were facing each other on the sofa, tossing a worn Quaffle between them, when the fireplace blazed green and Remus Lupin stepped out, casually brushing the ash off the lapels of his faded jacket.

“Moony!” James and Sirius chorused, barely breaking their routine of passing the leather bound ball.

Remus Lupin was a tall and gangly young man with sandy blond hair and a scarred physique. His clothes were scruffy, the cuffs were fraying slightly and the last button on the light brown jacket that he favored was missing. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his green eyes and he moved slowly, as if he was in actual physical pain, which, given what day it was, was not altogether a surprise.

“Hey boys, Peter should be along,” Remus responded, a slight tilt to his lips.

Sure enough, not two seconds later, the fireplace roared again and Peter Pettigrew stumbled out of the hearth much less gracefully than Remus had. He was picking himself up off the floor when James and Sirius playfully tackled him back onto it, pinching his cheeks and rolling around on the rug.

“Well shit, Prongs, look at this–” Sirius began.

“I know Padfoot–” James continued.

“What are we going to do now…?”

“Well… we have _four people,_ Padfoot. Wait! That’s an even number, isn’t it?”

“Maybe we should ask Moony, Prongs. He’s supposed to be the smart one.”

James looked innocently up at Remus as Sirius jumped to his feet. Remus first smirked down at James and then shifted his gaze up to Sirius, amusement dancing behind his pale green eyes.

“It _is_ an even number, I’m proud… your numerical skills are improving,” Remus complimented.

“You know what that means, Wormy?” James asked, throwing his arm over Peter's shoulders.

“Well, Wormy, take a gander now, come on,” Sirius goaded as he softly brushed more ash off of Remus’s chest.

“Hmm… I’m gonna have to take a wild guess and say Quidditch,” Peter replied, snatching up the Quaffle from where it had fallen and tossing it to Remus.

“Sir right you are!” Sirius confirmed. After James pulled Peter off the ground, he and Sirius frog-marched him towards the glass French doors—all three of them with grins on their lips. Remus followed slowly in their wake, spinning the Quaffle between his fingers.

They played Quidditch for hours, switching up the pairings every fifteen minutes or when someone deemed the teams unfair and demanded they mix it up. James had watched the anxiety gradually leave Sirius’s face, and he knew the others had noticed it as well. It was the fun distraction that Sirius had needed, and they only stopped when his mum called them in for dinner.

James saw Remus descend from the skies immediately and take the opportunity to rest a moment on the ground. James was content to continue to lazily toss the Quaffle and make a few more loops around their make-shift pitch before coming to rest, but when he threw the Quaffle to Sirius, his friend fumbled it and it fell to the ground.

“Well, that’s one way to know we’re done,” James yelled, laughing. Sirius didn’t blush, but he looked slightly embarrassed and his insult was lost on the wind. James saw him crack a small smile, though. They landed, still laughing softly, next to Remus on the grass.

“You alright, Moons?” Sirius asked. James reckoned that his worried expression mirrored the one Sirius was wearing as he looked at Remus; but Remus simply nodded in reply and said, “Fine,” a little too brightly to be considered truth.

Sirius didn’t look convinced, and Peter nodded in sympathy, but none of them tried to push their friend on an issue he didn’t like to talk about. James stepped closer to his friend and wordlessly slipped Remus’s broom from his grip, shouldering it and carrying it with his own. Remus inclined his head in silent thanks and they continued up to the house.

They stowed their brooms in a corner, and Sirius pushed his way past everyone, successfully making it to the front of the group before he bolted. He playfully shoved Peter one more time, giving him an even larger head start as his mates stumbled up to catch Peter before he could hit the floor. Peter laughed and took off after him, but Remus and James shared knowing looks and maintained their slower pace.

“He’s got ta tell us what happened last night or he’ll just stew in it until he explodes,” Remus whispered. “I’m worried for him, James.”

“Let’s get him drunk, he’s more vocal when he’s drunk,” James suggested.

“I’m serious, James,” Remus said.

“No you’re not, you’re Remus.”

James snickered as Remus rolled his eyes.

.:..:.

James watched Sirius down his third shot in the fifteen minutes that they’ve been in the pub, and James’s eyes flitted between his friends before sighing and throwing his second one back. Remus caught his eye and gestured silently to Sirius, giving a slight incline of his head and a look that clearly meant ‘talk to him now or he’ll get too drunk to comprehend.’

James sighed and leaned forward onto his elbows.

“Mate, you ready to tell us what happened?” James asked.

“Wow, you get right to the point, don’t you? No sugar coating coming from you,” Sirius scoffed, his voice bitter.

“Come on, Sirius, we just want to know what went down,” Remus soothed, placing his hand gently on Sirius’s back.

“Yeah, we just want ta’ be able to help… you know you’ll feel better once you tell us and get it off your chest,” prompted Peter.

“Also, I’m deadly curious at heart and I _need_ to know,” James moaned.

“James,” Remus warned. “Knock it off.”

“What? I’m only joking.”

Sirius swiveled his stool around, shaking off Remus’s hand, and leaned back against the bar. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“You guys are not aloud to fucking interrupt me, or I won’t get this out and you’ll be pissed and I’ll be pissed and this night of drinking and ‘make Sirius feel better about his shitty situation’ will go to waste. So just… please let me finish before you ask questions, alright?” Sirius looked purposefully at each of his three friends and waited for their nods of consent before picking up Remus’s untouched shot and downing it.

“I’d been going to Donald’s pub for years, you know, whenever my parents got in a really nasty mood and I needed out. Don’s a squib, and he patched up my wounds and fed me and basically treated me better than my own family ever did. Our house-elf, Milly, always covered for me when the ‘rents found out I wasn’t in my room… she’d give me a warning and I would run home, sneak back in and come up with some excuse as to where I was in the house and why they couldn’t find me.

“But I got too cocky this summer, and I started going out every night. Even worse, is I’d take my time getting home when Milly sent her warnings, finish my cigarette and shit, you know? So when I took a little bit too long one night, my father forced Milly to tell him the truth, and since he’s the head of the house, she’s got to obey him— especially since he asked her such a specific question… there was no way she could avoid it.” Sirius ran one hand through his curly locks and fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt with the other.

“Anyhow, they found out I was sneaking out every night without their knowledge, and my father called a ‘family dinner’,” Sirius scoffed. “Looking back, I should’ve known he’d had an ulterior motive. We don’t ever spend time together like that. I managed to avoid conversation for a while, though, and not react to all the fucked-up shit they were spewing, but then they started talking about marrying me off and I had to defend myself. I’m not even fucking seventeen years old and they want me to go off and get _married._ It’s like I’m a fucking broodmare! Then he started questioning me about ‘the _Muggle filth_ down the street.’ I lied at first because honest to Merlin the look in my father’s eyes gave me chills—like he was going to kill me on the spot if I said the wrong thing.

“But then I let slip that I’d been leaving since I was twelve, which I already thought they knew, and Mother blew up on Milly, cursed her, questioned her some more, and then killed her; right in front of me. She was just _dead_. So my mother then cursed me, I stormed out, blew up those ugly fucking trees across the street that I’ve always hated, and then came here.”

James was still processing everything he had just heard, and the four best friends sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sounds breaking their calm was the softly playing Muggle rock music and the couple of old men laughing in the corner booth. James knew the story was going to be bad… just not this bad. He gave his best mate a reassuring pat on the back before motioning to the barman and ordering them more drinks—beers this time because his mother’s voice floated into his ear and he knew they needed to slow down, even though Muggle liquor was different.

Sirius bowed his head and ran both of his hands through his hair again. James watched as he let out a shuddering breath before forcing tension into his muscles and giving his friends a sheepish, yet determined look.

“This is the only night you wankers get to feel sorry for me, so get your questions out now before I change my mind,” Sirius said.

“Why didn’t you ever tell us about Donald?” Remus asked immediately.

Sirius seemed to mull around possibilities in his head before, once again, letting out a sigh and answering.

“Because you guys all have someone that cares about you other than your best mates. You don’t feel the need to tell everyone that your parents have told you that they’re proud of you or that you have a father figure to look up to or any of that sappy shit. You just have one. Well, we all know my father’s a bigoted piece of dung… so I found mine elsewhere and I wanted to keep him _mine._ I know that’s confusing, but…” Sirius trailed off.

“That’s not confusing, mate. I’m the same way with Henry Ethel,” Peter confessed.

“Who?” James and Remus asked in unison. A small chuckle escaped both Peter and Sirius’s mouths.

“He’s the man who lives down the street from me and my mum,” Peter said, twirling his glass. “I mean you all know that my dad’s never been around, so Henry was the man who took his place. Just like this Donald bloke did for Padfoot.”

“Yeah, _you two_,” Sirius gestured to Remus and James, “just don’t get it because you actually have some decent fucking fathers in the first place.”

James thought on this for a second and he couldn’t control the wave of pity that washed over him. How could he have been unaware that not one, but two of his best mates felt inadequate because the father figures in their lives were either non-existent or brutally fucked-up? Of course having a male-figure to look up to is important, but James had never _really_ thought of the people that didn’t have one. He had just been naïve enough to think that not everyone needed a male role model.

How fucked up was that?

James loved his parents dearly, and he would never take their love and advice for granted, but it _was_ a luxury. Not everyone was as lucky as he was. All his thoughts from this morning came rushing back and he felt sort of shitty.

“You’ll have to introduce us to these pseudo fathers some day,” Remus said. “I’d like to meet them.”

The soft look that flitted across Sirius’s face was too much, and James had to look away. James stared into his drink for a minute before lifting his glass in the air and saying, “To Milly.”

Remus and Peter raised their glasses as well, and all three turned to look expectantly at Sirius. The soft look was gone and he wore a very pained expression on his face. James watched as he bit his bottom lip before slowly raising his glass.

“To Milly,” he croaked.

“To Milly,” Peter and Remus chorused.

They clinked and drank before they were once more drowning in a silence that was deafening. When Sirius let out yet another sigh, James let out an involuntary chuckle, and soon all four Marauders were laughing, but they knew it wasn’t a time to laugh so they all sounded like they were dying as they tried to rein it in and not be insensitive.

“Well,” James said, giving up on all pretenses. “Now we’re going to get fucking sloshed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i actually dislike this chapter the most out of all the ones I've written?? there are some soft wolfstar moments and funny marauder banter that manage to make it bearable for me but i'm tired of agonizing over it so here you go lol
> 
> I do, however, enjoy writing from James's pov the most so i'm really looking forward to you guys reading those chapters. next up, Lily's pov!
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading and leave a comment or a kudos :P


	3. Family Days or Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily spends some time with her family and runs into some unexpected people along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much to my beta's! y'all are wonderful human beings :))

_“I don’t think there’s a section for ‘I’m sorry you got traumatized’ cards” – _Spencer Hastings,_ Pretty Little Liars._

It was nearing the end of August, and the weather had officially turned from summer to hell. Lily was at the point where she regretted complaining about the cold weather; and, at this point, she’d give anything for a cool fall breeze or even a single drop of rain. End all, she was tired of being at home and she was dreaming about the old walls of Hogwarts and the constant drafts of cool air that trickled through the cracks. She even found herself daydreaming about the crackling fire in the hearth of Gryffindor common room because a warm fire meant it was cool enough outside to cozy up in front of it. 

Lily’s summer course work was finished, and she had spent the last few weeks lounging around in her backyard and generally feeling as if she were out of place. Up until the point where she stepped off the train and actually laid eyes on Petunia, Lily had been looking forward to seeing her sister. But Lily soon found that Petunia was adamant about spending as little time together as possible, and her parents were oblivious to how bad their sibling rivalry actually was. Any attempt that Lily made to reconcile with her sister proved demanding—she had even offered to go to the Muggle shopping center or that dreadful diner that Petunia enjoyed. 

Lily was a hair’s breadth away from her breaking point. 

For the past month, Petunia would be gone from the house every morning before Lily was able to rouse herself from her slumber. Her sister would then be gone all day—off to only God knew where—only to return late in the evening, unwilling to provide Lily with a true explanation as to where she’d been all day. Two days ago, her parents became as fed up as Lily with her daily disappearances and they instituted the new concept of ‘family day’.

They were a joke, in Lily’s opinion. They were complete and utter lunacy if she were completely honest. Even though Lily had wished to spend more time with her sister, that desire had withered and died like the house plant her mother kept in the front window. At this point in the summer, all Lily wished to do was nothing. It was too hot, in the first place, and it was hard to have fun in the Muggle world when all Lily could think about was the magical one.

However, despite her quiet but vocal protest, this is where Lily was now—in the uncomfortable cinema seats, seated between her father and the male part of the infatuated couple that had waited in the concessions line behind them—taking part in a ‘family day’. The theatre was completely packed, and it smelled of leather, burnt popcorn, and sweat. Lily had enjoyed the first fifteen minutes of the movie—really, she had—but it had long ago became clear that she wasn’t likely to enjoy the film. She had long forgotten what the movie was called, but the young woman portraying the lead was a complete basket case, and she did nothing but _cry _ and _complain_ about everything in her life. It wasn’t a very compelling plotline, and Lily was desperate enough to admit that the only reason she hadn’t left the theatre was because of the male actor playing the love interest… he was actually quite fit and Lily didn’t mind looking at him. 

On a good day—hell, even on a normal day—Lily loved a good romance movie. Her mother and sister both adored them, and Lily had many a memory of them all cuddled together on the couch watching a new release. Honestly, who doesn’t love a good romance? She just believed that there was a very fine line when it came to a romance flick, and this is why Lily usually stuck to the action and fantasy films. There was also the matter of ‘normal’ romance movies being _too _ mundane for her. It was hard to watch when her world was magical and the world of the characters was so… not. Lily was also a fan of badass female characters, and though she didn’t think a woman needed to wield a sword—or a wand—to be considered badass, she felt more of a personal connection to the female characters that did. And though she loved her happy endings, she preferred movies where the woman got the man _after_ the work was done, not just because there was work to be done. 

As the girl onscreen began to cry again, Lily finally let herself groan. She turned to meet the amused stare of her father and gave him pleading eyes that always worked when she was younger. He had yet to let go of her mother’s hand, but Lily could see in his eyes that he was just as finished with the movie as she was. _They _ had wanted to see the new crime-fighting movie, but—as usual—her mother had veto power and Petunia had threatened to sit in the lobby if they saw one of _those_ types of films. 

Her mother and sister started to sob silently as the movie began to wind down, and Lily couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“It’s almost over, Lily,” Edward whispered.

“Good,” she whispered back. “If we have to sit here much longer, I might fall asleep from boredom.”

He started to laugh until the elderly group of women behind them gave him a long _shush_, which of course caused her to join her father in his laughter. Attempting to muffle the giggles, Lily clamped a hand over her mouth and took a deep breath through her nose, but to no avail. Her father gave her leg a comforting pat and Lily rested her chin on her fist, once again watching the female lead cry on the big screen.

.:..:.

This time it was Lily’s turn to be forceful about what they were doing; Petunia and her mother had chosen the film, so Lily and her father were able to choose the restaurant with little push back from the other two women. Lily—not so subtly wishing to punish her sister for the film—chose the greasiest most non-fancy hole-in-the-wall establishment as possible. Her father had watched on in amusement and silent camaraderie, as Lily led them through the streets of their hometown. She had passed by Louie’s Pub a number of times with her Aunt Dahlia when she was around on one of her bi-annual visits. Of course, her crazy rich aunt was bringing her to the Michelin star restaurant on the next street up, but as Dahlia had grown up in this town—and wasn’t always rich—she had told many a story about her childhood fun at this place. 

Lily couldn’t stop grinning as she pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling their arrival. 

“We’re going to a bar,” her mother mumbled. “I am taking my sixteen-year-old daughter to a _pub_.”

“Aw, come now, dear.” Edward laughed as he took the door from Lily and held it for his wife and eldest daughter. “At least the first time she goes to a pub she’s with us. Plus, it’s not really a pub, it’s technically just a restaurant with a bar in it.”

“Edward Evans, the word pub is in the name,” Rose chided.

“Not to mention,” Lily piped in, her grin reaching Cheshire cat levels, “The Three Broomsticks? That’s a pub. So is The Leaky Cauldron, and we had pumpkin juice there the first time we went to Diagon Alley.”

“So, what you’re saying, is that I’m overreacting?” Rose smiled.

Placing his arm around his wife’s shoulders, Lily’s father gave Lily a grin and said, “I would never say such a thing.”

Lily shook her head a little too enthusiastically in denial, and she almost missed her mother mutter, “That’s because you’ve learned the hard way,” in response to her father’s comment. 

Taking in her surroundings, Lily realized the pub was fairly empty—which was unsurprising given it was a Thursday night. There were three old guys at a booth in the corner—all facing the telly that was perched on the bar and broadcasting a rugby match—and a couple of women in business casual, briefcases resting by their feet, twirling colorful cocktail glasses at a rickety old table. What caught her attention, however, were the two guys sitting at the bar—one had long curly hair and the other wore a pair of black glasses (that she knew rested in front of hazel eyes) and was gesturing wildly with his hand, the one that wasn’t occupied with a glass. He choked on his drink and nearly fell off his chair when his gaze came to rest on her. 

She had picked the _wrong_ place. 

Immediately she attempted to usher her family back through the door, but her father was like a brick wall—solid and unmovable. 

“Red!” Sirius yelled in greeting. Lily squeezed her eyes shut and slowly turned to face the origin of the voice. Sirius had jumped up from his chair and bounded over to a dumbfounded Lily, engulfing her in a huge bear hug—which, really, should have been her first clue that not everything was right with him. He spun her around with ease, and Lily couldn’t help but laugh as he did it. “What the hell are you doing here? Wait, don’t answer that… you couldn’t wait another two weeks to see me so you _had_ to track me down and give me a nice talking to.”

“Sirius–” Lily tried to interrupt.

“Damn, I’m wrong, aren’t I? Of course, you’re here to see Prongs. That’s gotta be it. He’ll be excited that you’ve finally given in and agreed to go out with him,” Sirius said. He was nodding his head so fast that Lily couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Or I’m here with my family after seeing a bloody _awful_ romantic movie at the cinema down the block, and I was going to drink my dad’s scotch when he wasn’t paying attention,” Lily said, leaning close enough that only he could hear her.

Sirius laughed this time, and he ruffled her red hair into an even bigger mess than the humidity had already shaped it into. 

“That sounds like the Evans I know and love. Don’t move… I’ll go get Prongsie.” Lily shook her head at Sirius’s retreating back before turning to once again face her family. Her sister had a look that could only be described as disgust, and her parents just looked surprised. Lily felt slightly sheepish. 

“Sorry,” she grimaced. “That was… um, that was Sirius Black. I’ve talked about him before, but he’s one of my good friends from school, and he’s a little… _exuberant_ more often than not. I _swear_ that I didn’t know he—I mean, _they_ were going to be here. Neither one of them live around here! And I haven’t spoken to either of them since term was over,” she added when she heard Petunia scoff in disbelief. Lily bit her lip when none of their facial expressions changed.

“Why don’t we sit?” her father suggested, and Lily gave him a grateful look. 

Her father chose the most modest looking table in the place and pulled out his wife’s chair before taking a seat in his own. Petunia—being Petunia—refused to touch the menus, her mother was already debating between fish and chips or a chicken sandwich, and her father had already been to the bar to order a scotch on the rocks. When the waitress dropped the drink off, he pushed it subtly in Lily’s direction—making her think that he’d heard what she’d said earlier to Sirius. It was only after they had ordered, and received their food, that Lily heard the voice she thought she’d go two more weeks without hearing.

But it seemed neither God, nor any of the usual magical suspects, were on her side today. 

“Hey Evans,” James drawled, though this greeting seemed more forced than usual. No matter, his voice washed over her like it usually did—well like it did on a good day, full of warmth and admiration. He placed a hand on the back of her chair and seemed to absently begin to play with a lock of her hair. She contemplated for a second if she should attempt to yank it out of his grip, but she let it be.

“Potter,” Lily responded, looking up at him over her shoulder and arching an eyebrow. He gave her a look that clearly said ‘introduce-me-you-unmannered-twat,’ and if Lily weren’t feeling as uncomfortable with the situation as he looked, she might have let him stew in silence for a while longer.

“Potter, this is my family—my mother, Rose, my father, Edward, and my sister, Petunia,” Lily said, gesturing to each of her family members respectively as she introduced them. “Family, this is James Potter—a friend from school and Sirius’s best mate.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” James said, bending down to place a chaste kiss on the back of her mother’s hand. Lily—and her father—bristled slightly as her mother blushed after he complimented her pearls.

_Why was he always so overbearingly charming?_ she wondered.

“Nice to meet you as well, sir.” James stuck out his hand to be shaken. Edward stared at it for barely a second before relenting and grasping James’s hand in what looked to be a very intense and painful handshake, as if each male were trying to show their dominance through the small gesture—like typical men. If it _was_ like this, James didn’t let it show, but Lily nearly choked on her water when she saw her father wringing his hand out under the table. James then turned to Petunia and he seemed to think twice before extending a hand—as was the smartest choice—and he simply gave a polite but curt nod in her direction. 

“You look lovely this evening, Petunia. My mother once tried to wrestle Sirius into a pair of shoes like yours—believe me, it was much more difficult to get them off of him.”

Lily managed to skillfully turn this snort into a cough, but vowed to get details later.

“So, you’re in Lily’s year at school?” Rose asked. Her mother seemed to be stifling a giggle or two of her own.

“Yes, ma’am, we’re neck in neck for the top of the class… though she’ll likely beat me out in the end despite me putting up one heck of a fight. You’ve got a right smart daughter, Mrs. Evans,” James said.

Lily watched her mother stare fondly up at Potter before giving Lily an approving grin and a sly wink. This made Lily’s face flame, but she wasn’t sure—nor would she like to dig deeper and figure it out—if it was from embarrassment or pleasure at her mother’s assumptions.

“What are you and, ah…”

“Sirius,” Lily helped.

“Yes, right,” her mother smiled. “What are you and Sirius doing at a pub all by yourself? I’m gathering you’re not old enough to drink?”

“Ah, well, you’d be right on that front, but in my defense I’m only a few months off, and my mum knows where we are and what we’re doing. As long as we’re home by curfew and we’re safe, she won’t be fussy. And, as to why we’re _here_, that’s actually what I’m hoping to speak with Lily about...” James trailed off. “Would you mind if I stole your daughter for a moment, Mrs. Evans?”

“By all means.” Her mother gestured. “As long as you bring her back.”

James laughed. “No promises.”

Lily turned to look at him again, somehow keeping her face blush free and her voice steady. “Last time you wanted to ‘speak with me’, my hair was green for a week, Potter,” Lily accused. An amused smile flitted across James’s face—Lily ignored the flip her stomach did at that moment—and his eyes glazed slightly as he recalled the memory. He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, about that… I’m pretty sure I never apologized for that, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. All you said was ‘it’s a little early to be celebrating Saint Patrick’s, don’t you think?’ But that does make up for the time I never apologized for charming all your textbooks shut for your lessons and stealing your quills. I’m pretty sure you got, what, three detentions that day?” She grinned.

“I deserved that though,” James said, yet again running a hand through his hair. “Honest though, Lily. It’s about Padfoot.”

She raised her eyebrows, prompting him to continue and showing him that she didn’t particularly want to get out of her seat—that she definitely wouldn’t be getting out of her seat just because he asked, no matter how nicely he did so. Sighing, he lowered his voice, leaned closer to her and continued. “He left, at the beginning of the summer. He left his family for good, and he’s still pretty messed up about it.”

“What?” she asked.

“Sirius. Left. His. Family. Come on, Evans, for top of the class you sure do take a long time to catch onto things,” James said, snapping his fingers.

“Sod off, Potter. You’re lucky we’re not in school because I’d show you _exactly_ what it looks like to be at the top of the class.” Lily scowled.

“I’ll thank my happy hippogriffs then, Evans,” he said, rolling his eyes. He glanced up and reddened when he noticed her parents watching them. His eyes turned imploringly back at her, so she set down her napkin—with a huff just for show—and shot her family yet another apologetic look before tugging Potter by his wrist to the front corner of the pub a few paces away.

“Okay, I’m listening for real now,” Lily said. “What happened?”

“Alright, well, Sirius’s mother killed that house-elf that he’s always going on about—you know the one?” He paused for her nod of confirmation before continuing. “They tried to arrange his marriage to that fit bird from Slytherin that finished last year, Rosaline Avery–”

“She’s a horrible human being, Potter, fit or not,” Lily admonished. “And the only things she cares about are herself, her looks, and if she’s capable of charming some unsuspecting rich bloke into marriage so she can take all his money.”

“I know, Evans, believe me,” James muttered.

Lily just stared at him. 

“What? Just because you’d rather date the giant squid doesn’t mean that other charming young women don’t find me attractive.” James smirked. “And, Evans, I happen to _be_ an unsuspecting rich bloke that’s ready to have his money charmed out of him—you might try it someday, because I’d likely have you a house bought on every island in Greece before I realized what you were doing.”

“James Charlus Potter, please tell me you didn’t date her,” Lily accused, shooting a look back to her seated family and berating herself for raising her voice. (Of course, the look over her shoulder had nothing to do with her blushing face—of course it wasn’t a calculated move to hide said blush from Potter at the insinuation that they could be married. Never.)

“Of course I didn’t, Lily Marie Evans. She’s a horrible human being,” James said as he followed her line of sight and ran a hand through his hair—again. “Merlin, I do have _some_ standards, you know—and, obviously, you’d be the only woman that could actually get away with pilfering my money—but that’s beside the point. We’re talking about _Sirius_, not my non-existent exploits–”

Lily snorted.

“–with Rosaline Avery. You’re bloody awful at staying on topic. Long story short, Padfoot is likely going to be disowned—we’re actually a little surprised that it hasn’t already happened. What I _wasn’t_ surprised about was the confirmation that his mother is one fucked-up bitch. Her parting gift to him was an ugly-arse scar on his chest to add to his collection. And you know how he feels about scars, but he told me the other day that he’s looking to get this one covered with a tattoo because he doesn’t like looking at it.” 

Lily’s mind was back on track, yet she couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

“His mother didn’t try and _kill_ him, did she?” she finally hissed, her raised voice causing her mother and father to look over at them in surprise. _Damn._

“Keep your voice down, Evans. Do you want him to hear you? He’ll skin me alive for telling you this shit.” James looked over his shoulder to ensure that Sirius was still deep in conversation with the barman. “I don’t _think_ that that was her intention, but she probably would’ve succeeded if he’d gotten to my house later than he did. My mum told me that he wouldn’t have lasted another five minutes at the rate of which he was losing blood—that he would’ve passed out before he made it to our front door.”

“Good Lord,” Lily sighed, rubbing her forehead and closing her eyes.

“But Mum fixed him up on our sofa—and you could tell he was in a lot of pain—and he’s been staying with me ever since. I just wanted to let you know because I know that Sirius would want you to, even if he can’t bring himself to actually tell you.”

“Okay, yeah, I can talk to him about–”

“No,” James interrupted. “Don’t bring it up unless he does. I don’t want to drag his mood back down.”

“But James I–”

She cut herself off this time. His eyes seemed to soften a little in the dim glow of the pub before he tugged gently on a strand of her hair and said, “See you around, Evans.”

And with that, he walked away without so much as a parting glance—nowhere near the playful and endearingly annoying way she was accustomed to when it came to him. It took her a minute to realize that she was standing there like a fool and her family was staring at her. Her parents looked a little concerned as she retook her seat at the table, and her sister didn’t even look up from her food. She felt a little disconnected from her body as she processed the information that had just been dumped on her—all she could think about was Sirius and his situation.

“What?” she whispered, asking herself more than anyone else.

“What’s wrong, honey?” her dad asked.

“Um… nothing, I’m fine,” Lily lied, her voice not even convincing to her own ears.

As Lily finished her food, she couldn’t help but sneak glances at the two boys perched at the bar as her father attempted to draw her into the conversation. It was another five minutes—her food finished—before she realized that she really couldn’t focus on what her mother was saying, so she finally wiped her mouth and apologized to her parents—again—before marching purposefully over to her mates at the counter. James was shaking his head at her, none too subtly either, but she ignored him. She knew where he was coming from—she understood his wish not to drag Sirius back into the memories, but Lily had a bone to pick with him.

“Sirius Black, you should have written me!” Lily hissed. “I thought that we were better friends than this, and that you would have told me when you finally left. The _beginning of summer_, Sirius! You’ve had two whole months to tell me—two whole months to write a simple letter saying ‘hey, I ran away from home and I’m still alive’! I’ve been worried, Sirius—you told me you’d check in and you never did!”

“You told her? James, I told you to keep this to yourself! You think I want everyone to know my family’s kicked me out? That they almost killed me in the process? No, I don’t, so _fuck_ you, James,” Sirius said, taking a long drink. The slight slur of his words was taking some of the heat out of his anger.

“Oi, don’t get mad at me, mate. I thought she knew–”

“Bull_shit,_ James. You _knew_ I didn’t tell _anybody,_ and you had no right to do it for me,” Sirius countered. 

“Sirius, may I see the scar?” Lily requested, interrupting their fight before Sirius said something that he’d regret in the morning.

Sirius froze and uncharacteristically shrunk in on himself. It unnerved Lily to see him this way. To see him not being like his usual carefree self. Wordlessly, he lifted up his t-shirt and held it above his chest, revealing a long and thin dark scar. She tentatively reached out and, after getting his nod of consent, ran her fingers along it.

“I’ll kill her,” Lily vowed.

“Get in line,” James mumbled, sipping his drink.

“You could have died from this!” Lily retorted, choosing to ignore James completely. “If her curse had hit you two inches higher you would’ve bled out in seconds! There’s an artery there, you know!”

“She knows what she’s doing when it comes to curses, Red,” Sirius said. “If she wanted me dead, believe me, I would be.”

“Don’t defend her, Sirius!” Lily scolded. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Well…” Sirius shrugged. 

Lily’s heart ached for her friend. “You have to go to the Ministry with this and get her arrested. She has to pay for this, Sirius.”

“There’s no way she can get in trouble, Evans,” Sirius said, finishing off his drink. “My family has _plenty_ of blackmail to keep others quiet and they have more money than they know what to do with. Even if I did survive long enough to go to trial and face the Wizengamot, my mother’s slagged her way through half the council members and they’re under her control if they don’t want their wives to find out about it.”

“There has to be a way,” Lily said, taking the empty stool next to Sirius. “What about your family, James? Your mother has collaborated with the Auror office for at _least_ thirty years, so she’s gotta have _some_ pull when it comes to the Ministry.”

“The Auror department is run separately from the Ministry, so they can’t specifically tell them what to do, so in return the Aurors can only send them suggestions as well. It’s a checks and balances type of situation so the Minister can’t have too much power under his belt. And besides, I already asked my mum and she looked into it. Sirius is right, his family is too wealthy to do any damage to.” James sighed.

“You looked into it already?” Sirius asked, sounding surprised.

“Of course I did. You’re my best mate and your family hurt you. I want them to pay just as much—if not more—than Evans does,” James said.

Sirius was silent for a while and Lily wondered what was going through his head. Putting herself in his shoes was impossible. The only scars she had were from minor things, like falling off a bike or being her usual clumsy self and ramming into the corners of things with her hips and shins; it was all just normal everyday things that she received from simply _growing up._ She can’t even _imagine_ her mother hitting her, and she was sure her father would sooner chop his hand off than lay it on her.

“My family’s probably peeved with me for sitting over here with you two and not them, I should head back over there,” Lily said, standing up and flattening down her t-shirt.

“Lily,” Sirius said. “You can’t tell anybody about this. Absolutely no one Evans, not even–”

“Sirius, stop,” Lily said. “No one will hear a word from me about this, I promise. And I know you would’ve told me in your own time, so don’t be _too _mad at Potter. Just—just get up and give me a proper bloody hug.”

When he didn’t move from his stool, Lily stuck out her arms and waved them in an impatient manner—clicking her tongue as she did so. With a sigh, he stood up and allowed Lily to embrace him tightly. After a moment, he succumbed to the reassuring pressure of her hug and he rested his head in the crook of her neck.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Sirius Black,” Lily whispered.

.:..:.

Later that evening, after Lily and her family had shared a brownie sundae, they made to leave. James and Sirius seemed to have the same idea, and a very drunk Sirius stumbled over to embrace her in yet another hug and place sloppy, wet kisses on her cheeks. She was laughing, and halfheartedly fending him off until James was able to come and pry him off of her.

“Sorry,” James apologized, looking from Lily to her parents. “He’s had a bit too much, and I probably should’ve cut him off a couple drinks ago.”

“That probably would’ve been the logical idea,” Lily laughed.

“He’s not usually like this, he’s just had a rough go of it these last few months,” James grimaced.

“Don’t apologize, son,” her mother assured. “How are you boys getting home?”

James’s face twisted a little bit more and Lily chuckled.

“Haven’t thought of that, have you?” Lily asked. “How did you _get_ here?”

“My mum’s friend lives about twenty minutes away,” James informed. “She let us come through her Floo.”

“You going back through that way?” Lily asked.

“Either that or we’re stuck here over night. Hanna’s a nice lady—a bit dotty—but she said she’d leave the back gate unlocked for us. All should be well.”

“If you’re sure?” Lily asked, glancing at Sirius who was busy trying to zip up his Muggle motorcycle jacket despite it still being hot out.

“Oh, yeah,” James assured. “And the walk will do him some good—sober him up before he’s got to face my mother.”

“Well don’t let him drink like this again,” Lily said sternly. “Help him cope in other ways.

“Yes ma’am.” James smirked. The characteristic sparkle in his hazel eyes was present again and it weakened her resolve almost to the point of _literally swooning._ Lily kicked herself but couldn’t help the smile that graced her face, and even though it was there for only a fleeting of a second, she knew James noticed it.

“Come Padfoot, say bye-bye to the pretty girl,” James snickered.

“Prongs… You can’t just say ‘_come’_ and expect me to-to _heel._ I am not a fucking _dog_, James…” Sirius snorted and James struggled to hold him up. “I’m just messin,’ just messin.’ I’m literally a fucking dog, Red. Did you know that? But _shhh_ you can’t tell anyone be-be-because we-we’re _illegal._” He laughed again. “Can you believe that, Evans? Evans… Evans, Evans, Evans…” 

Lily was biting her lip and giving her companions both appraising looks, and, even while supporting most of Sirius’s weight, James managed to run a calloused hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, just ignore him. He is _highly_ intoxicated so don’t take anything he says seriously–”

“Sirius?” Sirius asked hopefully. “What? I’m Sirius.”

“Just get him home.” Lily laughed. “I’ll see you blokes on the train.”

.:..:.

She was standing in a field full of brightly colored wildflowers and buzzing little bumblebees. The overwhelmingly bright sunlight was forcing her to squint as she tried to take in the rest of her surroundings. That’s when she noticed him. He was tall, but not too tall, and he was skinny, but not too skinny. He adorned Muggle jeans and a black t-shirt that, even from this far of a distance, showed off how toned his body was. The sunlight was reflecting off his dark skin, and silhouetting him against the horizon. There was no mistaking him; he had a messy mop of black hair that stuck up in every direction and twinkling hazel eyes that rested behind a pair of square glasses. It was James Potter.

She yelled out his name and his _stupidly_ charming smile made its way across his face. She heard him call back to her, but the voice seemed distant. It wasn’t too distant though, as it still seemed to penetrate her subconscious mind, but it wasn’t quite enough to fully pull her out of her slumber.

“Lily… Lily, dear, you have to wake up.” She realized then that it wasn’t James who was calling out to her, but her mother, and she blearily opened her eyes to stare groggily up at her. “You’ve got some post here; it came a few minutes ago while I was washing up. It says ‘open immediately’ on the front, but I don’t know who it’s from. I don’t recognize the penmanship.” Lily groaned and mumbled out a somewhat coherent reply.

“Probably just… A-Alice… or something, she doesn’t write much,” Lily said. She sat up slowly and took the letter from her mother, muttering something about lack of sleep and coffee under her breath. She covered a yawn with her hand and didn’t realize her mum was still standing in front of her until her way to cheery voice punctured the air again.

“Maybe it’s from James?” she chirped. Looking up at her mother, she noticed Rose had this sly grin on her face, and it gave off the impression that she knew something her daughter didn’t.

“W-What?”

“Wasn’t that the name of the nice young man at the restaurant last night… and you called his name in your sleep, dear.” Lily’s eyes narrowed slightly and she froze as the dream came flooding back into her mind. “Is he your boyfriend at school that I didn’t know about?” There was an accusatory tone to her mother’s voice that would usually make Lily shrink back into the nearest wall, but the twinkle of amusement in her eyes gave her ulterior motives away almost immediately.

“Who, Potter? No way Mum, there’s nothing to worry about there. Do you read any of the letters that I send home to you? Or do you just disregard all of them?” Lily watched her mum as she walked toward the door, all the while shaking her head, but not realizing that there was a small smile still plastered across her face.

Sighing, Lily looked down at the letter and gingerly turned it over in her hands, reading her name that was scribbled across the front. It looked as though it was written in a rush; the letters were slanted, smudged and unevenly spaced apart. Under her name was written ‘open immediately,’ just as her mother had said, in the same messy scrawl. Lily immediately knew who the letter was from, and she hated that her mum was right, yet again.

_My Dearest Lily,_

_I know you told me years ago that I was never to write to you, under any circumstances, but given the state of Sirius when we left the pub, I felt that I owed you the courtesy of letting you know we aren’t dead. Although we did almost get run over by one of those TERRIFYING Muggle contraptions. How do Muggles ride in those every day? It’s like a metal coffin, Evans!_

_Anyway, Sirius is horribly hungover, and he’s cursing at me something awful while I’m writing this—and, even though he’s likely lying, he says he’s never gonna drink again so I’m well on my way to doing what you said. This isn’t the only reason I’m writing you, however. There WAS an attack last night. It was all the way in London, but given the nature of the attack, I felt it was my gentlemanly duty to make sure you and your family made it home safely as well. Make sure you get a look at the Prophet this morning; my mum says that it’s surprisingly accurate for once._

_Please don’t hex me when you see me on the train, I promise I have no hidden agenda in sending this._

_James x_

_P.S. If I don’t get a return owl within the next couple hours, you’ll receive an ‘unexpected’ visit from yours truly._

Her scowl had deepened the longer she read, but her insides were doing small and _mostly_ insignificant flips as she threw the covers off her and got up from her bed. She stumbled to her desk in her still sleeping body and rummaged through her drawers to find some spare parchment and then snatched the pen lying on her desk.

_Dear Potter,_

_I am fine, thank you for your concern… except for the fact that my mother woke me up at an ungodly hour for me to open your ‘extremely important letter,’ and I’m stuck here with my hateful sister and obsessive parents who are oblivious to everything going on in my life away from them. Anyhow, my mother had a right fit when she thought it was you who wrote this letter. She screamed at me way too bloody early in the morning and really, it is entirely your fault. She called me a few choice words about, and I quote, 'conversing with an arrogant toe-rag'. I don’t think she likes you very much, mate. Sorry…_

_I will spare you the inconvenience of having to go to the hospital wing on the first day back if you swear on your life to never write at this ghastly hour of the morning ever again. _

_Lily _

After snorting at how much she over-exaggerated her mother’s actions, Lily made her way down the stairs to send the letter off. She successfully tied her letter to her owl’s leg and watched as she slowly disappeared on the horizon. She picked up the discarded Daily Prophet and scanned it for the attack that James had mentioned. It didn’t take long to find and she was appalled by the severity of it. The headline read:

**Attack on Teens: The Work of a Dark Lord?**

She began to read.

_Last night on the outskirts of London, a Muggle shop owner by the name of Christopher Hardy, found four badly injured teenage wizards in the alleyway behind his establishment. According to Ministry sources, Hardy called the Muggle authorities (‘police-men’) immediately and a wizard working inside the Muggle police force contacted the Auror office. The top Auror task force, headed by Alastor Moody, was deployed, and within the hour, all Muggles at the scene were presented with a magic free story and the correct memories were modified. _

_Among those attacked are Holly Monroe, aged fourteen; Kiera Donaldson, aged thirteen; David Strouser, aged fourteen; and Anthony Hopkins, aged fourteen. All are soon to be fourth year students at the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and are in the top of their class. Two of the students, Monroe and Hopkins, play for their Ravenclaw house Quidditch team. Strouser is a member of The Hogwarts Gobstones Club and traveled to The United States of America for a tournament last summer. Donaldson is a part of the Photography Club and Charms Club. They are well liked among their peers, but it is not a hidden fact that all four come from non-wizarding families (Muggleborns). All four of the victims’ parents had reported their children missing to the Muggle police force six hours before they were found._

_The teenagers were taken directly to St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries after being examined by the on-sight Mediwitch. After speaking with the head of hospital, Healer Abigail Knightly, it is confirmed that all those involved are to make a full recovery. “We here at St. Mungos are thankful to the man who found them. It would have been catastrophic if they were not found and treated when they were.” Although it is rumored throughout the hospital that said patients were treated for neuropraxia, internal bleeding, seizures and organ damage—all which are the remnants of the Cruciatus Curse—Healer Knightly refused to comment, quoting: “I have a duty to my patients and my hospital, and I cannot reveal such information at this time. It is up to the patients and their guardians to speak if they so wish.”_

_The Auror office has refused to release any comments on who they believe are behind this brutal attack, but according to a source within the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, it is linked to other recent attacks in the London area. It is speculated that it is the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his loyal band of followers, whose manifesto is to eradicate those who are not of high wizarding standing and bring our community back to its ‘golden age.’ All those that are being targeted are those of Muggle Heritage and we here at _The Prophet _advise everyone, not just those of said Muggle descendants, to stay on alert and stay safe._

Lily’s mind was reeling as she moved to stare out the window. She knew Kiera Donaldson; she had tutored her in Charms just last year when she was having trouble understanding the new concepts. She was a very laid back type of girl, stuck loyally to her small group of friends, and completed her work on time. Lily thought she had adjusted especially well for a Muggleborn at Hogwarts. Lily, being one herself, knew the struggles firsthand. To think that Kiera was lying in an alleyway, just last night, in pain and being tortured for Merlin knows how long, brought tears to her eyes.

Still staring mindlessly out the window, she noticed a black dot slowly swooping towards her. Lily hastily wiped away her tears and stepped back to allow the brown Hogwarts barn owl to land gracefully on her kitchen table. The letter consisted of the usual list of supplies, the information on the date and time that the train leaves and, thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary. Lily was renewed her prefect duties, although that wasn’t really a surprise, and a new badge was enclosed.

Lily decided to go to Diagon Alley this upcoming weekend before term and gather her supplies, and also decided that she would send a letter to the girls to meet her there… if only she hadn’t sent her owl away to Potter. It was worth avoiding a visit with him though because she knew, without a doubt, that he would have showed up on her doorstep despite the fact that she never shared any such information about her address with him. He would have come in, guns blazing, and most likely not even knocked.

James Potter was not an uncaring individual. In fact, Lily was sure, that that was his great hamartia… James Potter cared _too_ much. His intentions would have been nothing but pure if it had actually come to him busting down her door and wielding his wand. Lily could imagine the looks of shock on her parents’ faces and the sheepish ‘okay-I-overreacted’ look marring James’s features. Lily would laugh initially, but then go on to feel absolutely horrible for making him come all this way and worrying him way too much. He would pelt her with a heartbreaking stare, run a hand through his hair, and mumble incoherent words of apology under his breath.

Then he would switch to a completely different version of himself and chastise her thoroughly and admonish her that it was wise to send a return owl when in such a dire situation.

Despite popular belief, Lily and James had been somewhat friends for a little over a year. It wasn’t an open friendship and they were fighting more often than not; therefore, no one would believe them if they contradicted their strongly held beliefs. Up until last year, Lily had been a best mate to Severus Snape and he, in no way, shape, or form, approved of anything that James Potter or his mates did. That was one reason she kept her friendship with Potter hidden, but the other reason was because she didn’t want to admit to herself that he was actually a decent fucking person. Then Potter had to go and make things different and weird when he asked her out at the end of fifth year, in a completely and utterly unconventional way, might she add.

Lily Evans hated that she wanted, if only slightly, to say yes to him, but she had literally just lost her best friend since childhood, the person that told her she was a witch, and she wasn’t open to any more rejection or heartache.

What Lily Evans hated _most_, however, was the dejected look in his eyes when she had said no… or more accurately: “I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.”

That was _definitely_ not Lily Evans’ shining moment.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

[Bonus: James’s return letter to Lily]

_Lily,_

_What I’m gathering from this letter is that I can write to you in the future as long as it’s after eleven… interesting development, if I do say so myself. And I can guarantee that your lovely mother said nothing of the sort. I had practically charmed the boots right off her last night. To me, that sounds more like something you’d say. (Don’t worry, Evans, it doesn’t hurt my feelings anymore. Surprisingly it’s long lost its sting and I like to think of it, now, as a way of you expressing your endearment towards me.)_

_I’m sorry about your sister, though. It sounds rather miserable to be you right now._

{Here, Potter had drawn a little frown-y face with hair sticking up in all directions. It made Lily smile.}

_Hope your summer wasn’t all bad. I’ll look for you on the train._

_James x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, James’s middle name is still Charlus because that’s been my headcanon for as long as I can remember. And despite the fact that we now know his parents real names, we still don’t know his middle name for sure. I like to imagine he’s named after a distant great-uncle lol.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! And after three rewrites, I hope y'all like the final product as much as I do.
> 
> Comments and kudos make happy brain chemicals :)))


	4. Breaking Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole gang visits diagon alley and deals with some anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is one bit of important info y'all need to know before reading: tw for body shaming in this chapter // it’s all in a memory, and nothing happens in the present day—just some mean childhood bullies that inspire some sad internal thoughts. message me if you want some more info!

_“Not everybody has to be happy all the time. That’s not mental health, that’s crap.”_ – Meredith Grey, _Grey’s Anatomy_

Sirius didn’t want to go anywhere _near_ Diagon Alley today. He was perfectly content where he was, curled up in the camp bed in James’s bedroom. Sirius had never been this person before—the person with no money. No matter his parent’s hatred for him, they never let him go anywhere without a bag full of Galleons. Now, all Sirius had to his name was fourteen sickles, six knuts and a Gobstone. He knew that the Potters would buy his school supplies for him, and even replace the two books and his potion kit that had been left behind at Grimmauld Place, but he didn’t want to have to _ask_ them to do it. Sirius hated feeling like a charity case, hated feeling there was nothing left in his life that was simply _his._

He had been staring out the crack in the curtains for a while, not really paying attention to the passing of time or the sounds of pans banging together in the kitchen; therefore, it wasn’t a surprise when Sirius didn’t hear James push open the door.

“You plan on getting out of bed anytime soon?” James asked. Sirius jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, but lazily rolled over to meet the concerned gaze of his best friend. “We were supposed to meet the guys… uh… about five minutes ago.” James laughed lightly after checking his bare wrist for his imaginary watch.

“I’m not really feeling it today, James,” Sirius responded, turning back to stare at the crack in the curtains. He heard James sigh and begin rummaging around the room. It could have been two minutes or ten when James started shoving at his legs.

“Budge up, why don’t you?” Sirius pulled his legs up to his chest and felt the unsteady bed dip as James sat the end of it. “You want to talk about anything?”

“No,” Sirius mumbled. “I just don’t want to go anywhere today.”

“Sirius… I just want to say–”

Sirius cut him off, _“No_, James. I already know what you’re going to say and frankly, I don’t want ta’ hear it. I’ve got enough pity for myself, thanks, I don’t need any of yours.”

“Pity?” James scoffed. “I don’t _pity_ you. I was _ going_ to say that you’re strong as _hell_ for finally leaving. I was _going_ to say that I don’t think that I ever would have been able to do what you did. I was _going_ to say that you’re too hard on yourself, and you don’t deserve that. And—uh, well… you’re my… you’re my best mate, and it sucks to see you so down.”

“I’m not ‘down,’ James, I just don’t–”

“Oh knock it off, Padfoot,” James snapped, slapping Sirius smartly on his thigh.

“Uh, _ow?_ Did you just _slap_ me?” Sirius asked, surprise and shock leaching into his voice. “Why did you–”

James smacked him again and Sirius scrambled up the bed and out of reach of his best friends’ hands. They were light smacks, more intended to startle than hurt, and startle they did.

“Alright, you’re going to listen to me!” James exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and pointing a finger at Sirius. Sirius looked on in fascination as his friend began to pace, not really understanding what was going on. “First, I know that you’re going through shit that I could never begin to understand. And I also know that you don’t tell us all the stuff that goes on when you’re at home. I _know_ that it’s worse than you let on. And it’s _okay_ that you don’t want to tell us all of it. It’s _your_ business, but I don’t think that you understand the fact that _we are here._ We. Are. Here. And we’ve been here since that first night in the dormitory six years ago, and there’s nothing that you could tell us that would force us away!”

Sirius was staring at his hands, nervously fiddling with the signet ring he still wore on his finger. “I… uh, James I–”

“Just one more second, Padfoot,” James interrupted again. “I’m almost done, okay?”

James, ever the most tenacious Marauder, patiently waited for Sirius’s nod before continuing.

“Well, secondly, stop calling me James so much. It’s weird and you haven’t done it this frequently since the beginning of third year.”

Sirius wrinkled his nose, but James spoke up again, not allowing Sirius to get a word in even if he had known what he’d wanted to say.

“Thirdly! We went on a bloody fantastic summer vacation to Greece and Paris and Australia and you were sad the _whole time!_ And that’s okay, Padfoot, because I know that sometimes we just can’t help but feel sad. Now though, _right now,_ you are going to snap out of it. You are going to stop telling yourself that the grass is greener on the other side because it’s not. It is greener where you fucking water it. So take control of your own damn life and start watering your own damn pastures and grow your own damn greener grasses, Sirius Black, or so help me, I’ll bloody knock you out.”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell just came out of your mouth?”

James laughed and said, “I’m not sure,” before his eyes widened comically. “Oh god, Padfoot. I’m turning into my mother! That’s what my mum would’ve said to you!”

Sirius was laughing as James sank back onto the bed, his face in his hands. He jokingly patted James on the head before flopping down onto his back and sighing. “I’m sorry that I’m sad,” Sirius said.

“Don’t apologize for what you’re feeling,” James sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you to ‘snap out of it.’ That wasn’t fair because I _know_ that it doesn’t work like that. I just want you to feel better and I’m not really sure how to help you do that.”

“Well, you seem to be doing just fine,” Sirius comforted. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Really? You’re feeling better?” James’s expression was so earnest when he looked up and met Sirius’s eyes, that Sirius couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down.

“Yeah, mate.” Sirius smiled. “I’m feeling better.”

He hoped that one day it wouldn’t be a lie.

.:..:.

Ten minutes later, Sirius ambled down the stairs and into the kitchen. Euphemia was just setting the kettle to boil on the stove, and Sirius was happy with the familiarity of it. At Grimmauld Place, there was never something as simple as making tea in the mornings. He didn’t think that his mother even knew _how_ to make a decent cup of tea.

“Morning Sirius.” Mia smiled, setting a pastry down on the counter in front of him. “I trust you slept well? I hope Monty and I didn’t keep you up too late with our music.” Truthfully, Sirius hadn’t even known that there was music being played last night. He was so used to living in the middle of London that the quiet rumblings of a record player late at night were nothing.

“Slept just fine, Mrs. Potter,” Sirius reassured. He tucked into his pastry, which turned out to be cherry flavored, and waited for James to emerge from whatever bowels of this mansion he had retreated into. Sometimes, Sirius still couldn’t get over the sheer size of James’s house. Even compared to Grimmauld Place, it was _huge._ The Potters regularly only kept to one corner of it—the smallest corner of it, actually—with their bedrooms all in one wing and the den, living room, and kitchen in another. Sirius knew that there were three other wings to the house, the ones housing the guest quarters, James’s parents offices, the ballroom, and the _massive_ dining room, but they were rarely frequented and kept maintained only by the three House Elves that have been with the Potters since Monty himself was an infant.

“Do you want something else to eat, dear? Or maybe just some tea?” Mrs. Potter asked.

“Uh, tea’s fine,” Sirius responded, snapping out of his stupor. “We’ll probably eat a whole lot once we get to Diagon Alley. Actually, I’m sure Peter will insist on it.”

Mia laughed. “Speaking of Diagon, I’ve pulled some money from Gringotts for you boys to spend today. I wasn’t sure how much you’d want, but I don’t even think _James_ could spend this much in one day. There should be plenty to spare for the both of you once you get all your school supplies.”

“You don’t…” Sirius began, his words catching on the way out of his mouth. “You, uh, you don’t have to do all this. I mean school supplies are one thing, but just _giving_ me money is a whole other thing. I don’t—I would hate to be a-a bother to you.”

Sirius couldn’t even look in the general direction of Mia right now, in fear that his face would give away every turbulent emotion that he was feeling at the moment. Heat was creeping up his neck, and his hands were clammy when he rubbed them on his trousers. Shame wasn’t a feeling that he was used to, and he found that he _really_ wasn’t that fond of it.

“Nonsense, dear,” the woman said, laying a hand on Sirius’s cheek so she could look at him properly. “We love you very much, Sirius, and we love having you here. I would be angry with myself if I let you leave today without you knowing this. I am very sorry that you had to grow up the way you did, you deserved better—you _deserve_ better. So don’t you worry a lick about the galleons, sweetie.”

Sirius was pulled in for a hug and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears that wanted to break free. It had been a long time since a mother had held him like this, and he could feel something twisting in his chest, pulling his stomach into knots.

“Don’t give your parents one more ounce of your grief,” she whispered into his hair. He nodded and managed to bury his face even deeper into her neck.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Marlene McKinnon hated Flooing.

It made her stomach feel all funny, and she usually managed to find soot someplace on her body _hours_ after the fact, no matter if she had changed her clothes or not. The thing she hated most about Flooing, however, was the fact that she never seemed able to do it properly. She always stumbled out of the grate, and there was nothing graceful about it. Flooing someplace familiar, like her home, never bothered her, but she knew that there would be unfamiliar patrons in the Leaky Cauldron, and that they would _see her_ tumble through the Floo.

The unwanted attention was the obstacle she was facing at the moment.

She was pacing back and forth in front of her fireplace, wearing a tread in the old brown carpet and dreading the moment that she would throw down the ash-like powder and swirl away to her destination. She couldn’t do it. She would just write to Lily tonight and make up some excuse as to why she couldn’t meet everyone in Diagon Alley… but then Lily would be disappointed that she didn’t come—hell, _all_ her friends would be disappointed. Marlene couldn’t do that to them. _Wouldn’t_ do that to them. The only thing she hated more than undue attention, was letting her friends down.

Marlene groaned and sunk into the plushy couch facing the fireplace.

She dropped her head in her hands, closing her eyes.

This summer had been hard on Marlene. She had started having anxiety attacks that began in the later weeks of June, and they had quickly become more frequent over the course of the summer, increasing to the point of almost being unbearable. Why Merlin had felt the need to gift her with this _now,_ of all the times in her life it would have been warranted, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it sucked _major_ arse.

The first anxiety attack occurred at the end of June when Marlene’s mother had let out a shocked gasp over the morning’s Daily Prophet. Her mother had shakily handed over the paper, and all Marlene remembered was white noise. Her old neighbor, Anya, had been found murdered with her children the night before. The Aurors had found the twenty-one-year-old wrapped around the bodies of her two young daughters in their home on the other side of Wiltshire. Anya’s husband Michael was left broken, a shadow of the happy and carefree man that Marlene used to know—the absence of his family sitting like a ghost behind his eyes. She had barely recognized him when she saw him at the funeral a week later.

Having grown up with Anya and Michael, the death of her and her beautiful daughters had been too much.

She had spiraled from there, and her anxiety has begun to feel like an overbearing old friend. Her life felt stilted, and she couldn’t remember what it felt like to be ‘normal’ anymore, but she’d grown to expect the attacks and learned to greet them apathetically. Her coping techniques were essentially non-existent, but she’d come to the understanding that if she pulled her clothing tightly around her midsection, it would calm her down; it was the pressure that seemed to help.

As she was growing up, Marlene spent weekends at the Muggle cattle farm down the road. She’d fallen in love with the fresh air, the sound of the chickens clucking, and the soft swish of the horse’s tails as they grazed the fields. The cows, she thought, were weird, but she loved them most of all. Their bodies were ill proportioned, and she didn’t understand how all of that weight could rest on those four little legs with the tiny, _tiny_ hooves. She still liked them though, because not one of them looked the same. There had to be over four hundred cows on that farm and every single one of them were different, but she vowed she would never go back once she realized what the nice old farmer man did to the cows on that cattle farm.

The man, Earl was his name, would herd a bull into the confines of a small wooden cage and slaughter it.

Marlene never thought that she would benefit from that experience, but seeing the bull calm down because of the pressure on its sides has benefitted her in more ways than one. She’s been able to calm herself down the same way in recent weeks, ever since her five-year-old brother had found her in the corner of her room and collapsed on her chest, squeezing her harder than she thought such a small child capable of.

She tried not to dwell on the fact that she relied on the _same_ technique used to calm bulls before they’re slaughtered… that particular thought made her feel slightly queasy.

That’s what she was doing now, though—pulling her shirt tight, hugging herself, and trying to calm her racing heart. It was taking longer to work this time, but she could feel her heartbeat slowing down and her labored breathing calming. She took a final deep breath, grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the vase on the mantle, and stepped into the hearth. She threw down the powder before she could, once again, talk herself out of it, and called out as clearly as she could, “The Leaky Cauldron.”

All she saw was the vast wall of green flames and the split-second scenes of various sitting rooms that whisked away before she could get a real look. What Marlene didn’t see was her mother’s proud smile from where she had stood out of sight around the corner of the kitchen.

.:..:.

When the Leaky Cauldron finally spun into view, she stumbled out of the fireplace. Marlene managed to catch herself on a table, letting out a loud “mph,” as a few people glanced up from their drinks to look in her direction. Before anything worse than shaky hands could happen, she heard her name being called from the other end of the bar. Lily Evans, Ailana Fernández, Mary MacDonald and Alice Fortesque were seated around a small round table with nearly empty glasses of Butterbeer in front of them.

Marlene felt a little more at ease now that she saw her friends, and she gave them a small friendly wave before making her way over to them. They all seemed to be glowing, their tanned skin and freckles alluding to a summer well spent. Behind their happiness, though, Marlene knew that they had worries of their own that were sometimes made obvious by the small lines that appeared between their eyebrows or the constant twitching of a leg.

She knew the tides were turning, and that things had actually been bad for a while now, but it was infinitely more real now that it had affected Marlene firsthand. She knew that Lily and Mary worried for their Muggle families, and the horrible things that could happen to them for simply having a daughter who was born as a witch. And she _knew_ that Ailana’s brother was a squib, and that her father’s side didn’t take the news very well. And Alice was worried about everything all the time: Frank, her grades, Frank, her neurotic mother, her friends, and _Frank_.

She tried to shove that from her mind as she reached their table. All her friends jumped up as she neared, and she was engulfed in a massive, bone-crushing, four-way hug. She’d missed this… the embraces of her friends.

“What took you so long?” Mary asked.

“We were getting worried about you, Marley,” Lily added.

“I’m sorry you lot, I didn’t mean to. I just lost track of time trying to finish up my summer work before we head back,” Marlene lied easily. “I felt it would be a nice change of pace to not rush through it all on the train.”

“Well did you finish it?” Ailana smirked slyly. She was the last of the girls to pull back from the hug, though her hand lingered gently on the curve of Marlene’s hip.

“Of course I didn’t finish it.” Marlene smiled. “Where’s Emmeline? Could she not get out of the house?”

“No, her mom’s roped her into another day of ‘mother-daughter-bonding’ before the train leaves. Plus, she’s already got her school supplies so she didn’t really have an actual excuse to come,” Mary replied, her displeasure at the fact that her best friend was unable to meet up evident in her expression.

“I put my foot down on those days a _long _time ago,” Alice laughed. “It was getting annoying when all she wanted to talk about was Frank.”

“But you_ love_ to talk about Frank,” Ailana drawled as she retook her seat and drank the dregs of her Butterbeer.

“And you do talk about Frank a lot, dear,” Lily laughed, patting Alice’s arm slowly.

“You would too–” Alice paused, smirking, “–if I wouldn’t be suspicious of it.” She grabbed her purse from the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulder.

“Would not,” Lily retorted, absentmindedly pulling Alice’s hair out from under the purse strap.

“No, she’d just talk about _James.”_ Ailana smirked.

“I would not!” Lily denied.

“Would too!” Mary laughed. “It’d start off about how Potter ticked you off that day, and there would be all these underlying hints about the sexual tension between you two, that everyone knows is there _except_ you two, by the way, while you ranted about his ‘_bloody messy hair’_ and his ‘_stupid arrogant smirk.’”_

“I bet you can think of more ways than one to wipe that smirk right off his face,” Mary muttered, smirking herself as Lily’s face grew even redder than it already was.

“First off, there is no–” Lily broke herself off and looked around, realizing how loud her voice sounded. She sucked in a breath and started again at a more appropriate volume. “There is no _sexual tension_ between me and Potter. I honestly don’t even know why you would say that because it-it’s completely—it’s complete and _utter_ lunacy! I do _not_ see Potter that way. And secondly, the only way I would wipe a smirk off his face would be courtesy of a slap, thank you very much.”

Lily finished in a huff and turned on her heel to be the first one to head down the Alley, causing everyone else to laugh.

“Maybe, Lil,” Marlene said, catching up to her. “But you can’t deny that the first thing that popped into your head concerning Potter’s smirk would be to–”

“–Snog it off of that bloke’s face. My dear, there are only a few women who would pass up that chance,” Ailana finished.

“You being one of them, of course,” Lily said.

Ailana looked pensive for a moment, but Marlene knew it was all for show. “No… I’d do it. If only because it would make you wickedly jealous, and not necessarily because I’d enjoy it personally,” Ailana said, flipping her short curly hair out of her eyes as Alice laughed. “But who knows, James is probably a good kisser—for a guy, that is.”

Lily laughed and wrapped an arm around Marlene’s waist, leaning her head on her shoulder. “I missed you girls,” Lily said. “Even if I have to put up with your teasing, I missed you.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be sick to death of each other by the end of term,” Ailana said, as they passed under the archway onto the sunlit cobblestones of Diagon Alley.

“You could _never_ get sick of me,” Alice said, pulling the rest of the girls together and linking their arms.

.:..:.

The day seemed to wither away before Marlene’s eyes. The five girls flitted in and out of almost every store in Diagon Alley, not necessarily buying anything, but trying to spend as much time together as possible. Ailana and Mary bought new robes from Madam Malkins, seeing as they both were now taller than Marlene herself—which wasn’t an easy feat _at all_. They all purchased their school books at Flourish and Blotts and their potion ingredients at the Apothecary, which they eventually had to drag Lily out of after she’d caught sight of the newest cauldron model. Marlene basked in the presence of her friends after a summer spent in isolation away from them, and was determined to make the most of their time together.

She couldn’t quite manage to keep those niggling thoughts out of her head, though. She didn’t want her friends to find out about her near _crippling_ anxiety. She didn’t want it to alter their view of her, so she carried around this unrealistic reservation about being herself around them. She didn’t want to add to their worries, nor did she want them to talk about _it_ behind her back. Even thinking about them finding out was making her nauseous because knowing that they were amazing friends, and trusting every inch of yourself to them, were two separate things.

Moreover, Marlene also felt that she was the outcast among her friends, the one that didn’t quite fit their collective “look.” Each one of her friends were petite. Lily was the shortest, and her newly acquired curves made Marlene jealous, but the other four girls were about Marlene’s height; though, they were whip-like, built for either a Quidditch match or a runway show. Ailana could fit in in either profession, and her upper body strength was something that Marlene marveled at. As for herself, Marlene’s mom calls her “sturdy,” but Marlene only remembers the childhood bullies’ taunts of “fattie” that were yelled across a lake as she swung out on the rope swing. Her anxiety had just worsened her body confidence issues, and she hated looking into a mirror at all these days. Quidditch had filled her out, but nothing Marlene ever tried has helped her lose weight, and that was the only solution that Marlene could think of that would make her feel better about herself.

“Marley?” Mary asked, shaking Marlene’s arm. “You alright? Alice asked you a question.”

Scratching her forehead absently and trying to pull herself from the hole she had just fallen into, Marlene replied, “Must have zoned out there for a minute. What’d you ask, Alice?”

Before Alice could repeat herself, Lily sucked in a sharp breath of air. They had spotted each other at the same time, but their reactions to the other’s presence were very different. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing them, Lily groaned and muttered irritably to her friends. Marlene watched Potter grin like a madman and nudge Sirius in the ribs. One day. That was all she wanted. Marlene hadn’t seen her friends at all this summer, and she wanted _one_ uninterrupted day of catching up and shopping. But it seemed that luck was not on her side, and Sirius Black and his mates were walking towards them. Marlene had instantly reached up to unconsciously flatten her wavy blond hair, her crush on Sirius making her fumble even more than she usually did.

If Marlene were a bolder person, she would sit Sirius down somewhere and make him acknowledge what could be a wonderful and budding romance between them. She wanted to scream at him until he realized what was obvious. But Marlene was not a bold person, so Ailana ran forward first. Her short brown hair was bouncing happily as she practically jumped into Remus’s arms—as he was her favorite—before making her rounds through all four boys in front of her.

“You should have owled us!” Mary said, also giving the boys hugs. “We could’ve met up earlier in the day!”

“Could have,” Sirius grinned, “but I don’t think Evans is too happy to see us.”

“Of course she is!” Alice said, looking pointedly in Lily’s direction. “Aren’t you, Lils?”

Marlene couldn’t hold back her snicker as Lily tried to morph her features into a pleased expression and achieving only a sort of half grimace that caused James to burst into laughter.

“Just give me a hug, you old hag,” Sirius said. He pulled Lily into a hug, and the unusual moment of open affection did not slip by anyone. Marlene and the girls gave the Marauders a questioning look, but all they received in response were two shrugs and a pleased smirk from James. Sirius finally released Lily, and she looked at Sirius intently, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling softly in question, but he was just as forthcoming as the rest of the boys. Marlene sighed.

Lily seemed to eye James with distrust before starting her procession of hugs as well. Lily squeezed Peter tightly, gave Remus a quick peck on the cheek after he gave her a nod, and then reached up to put her arms around James’s neck. He seemed to hold onto her longer than everyone else did, and Marlene watched his arms tighten almost imperceptibly before he slowly let her go. Lily laughed uncomfortably as she pulled away, running a hand through her hair and turning away from him, showcasing her red face to her best friends instead. Marlene watched as Ailana shook her head, exasperated with Lily’s blindness.

Marlene grinned. Lily had no idea that Marlene wanted to set _them_ both down in a room, and knock some common sense into them about their obvious feelings.

“Come on, come on,” Sirius said. He was waving his hands in an impatient manner and beckoning Marlene foreword. “Give me a hug Marls, yes, I missed you too.”

It seemed that all of Marlene’s over-analyzing was taking too long for Sirius because he strutted over, pulled her in by the waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her in a circle with his amount of enthusiasm. What would make most girls squeal with delight, only made Marlene tense because she _knew_ that Sirius could feel the extra skin on her sides.

He spun her around once, and set her down, smoothing a calloused hand down her bare arm. “As beautiful as ever, Marls.” Sirius smiled.

Marlene’s lips only quirked a little, but she quietly said, “Thank you,” before he turned to Alice and Mary.

Growth and healing would take time.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Marlene was stiff in his arms as he lifted her up, so Sirius only spun her around once before he set her down, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes lingered on him after he rubbed a hand down her arm, and he gave a loose smile to try and reassure her. “As beautiful as ever, Marls,” he said truthfully.

He almost missed her quiet “Thank you,” as he turned away to greet Alice and Mary.

After the girls declined their invitation to visit the Quidditch supply store, the Marauders once again set off on their own with vague plans to meet back up with them at Fortesque’s Ice Cream Parlor later. They bantered easily on the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, with Remus steering the topics towards anything but him. Sirius noticed, and he was sure the others did too, considering that Moony’s ability to change the topic, no matter how effective they were, were anything but subtle. They let him have his privacy, though, and, as usual, didn’t pressure him into talking about it.

Sirius could ask him about it later, though—privately.

Despite the large crowd hanging around outside the door, the inside of the Quidditch store was nearly empty. The two other patrons consisted of only a young couple that seemed to be, at most, five years older than the Marauders themselves. James went straight to the Chaser’s section with an excited murmur, and Sirius drifted aimlessly down the aisles, not looking for anything in particular. That _was_ the case until he came to the surprisingly large assortment of beaters bats. They had everything from extra-grip and extra-reliable to kids sized ones complete with mini-bludgers, advertised as “soft and harmless,” for the tykes to play with. There was a sleek black bat with a gold stripe painted around the handle that caught his eye. He picked it up and was happy to realize that the weight and size was perfect for his grip.

“You should get it,” Remus said, startling Sirius from his inspection. “Not to give your ego any _more_ of a boost, but you’re really good, and you could make the house team in a heartbeat. Plus, Price graduated last year, and James is captain, so you’re a shoe-in.”

“Sadly, I’m broke,” Sirius replied, hoping for a light tone. By the look on Remus’s face, he hadn’t succeeded as well as he’d hoped. “I can use the school’s bats if I feel like trying out.”

“We both know the school bats are shit, and haven’t been replaced in fifty years,” James sing-songed from the next aisle. “We’ve got plenty of money left, Padfoot. Get the bat.”

James rounded the corner, Peter in tow and shaking the bag of coins expectantly.

“This is frivolous and–”

_“And,”_ James cut in, “I’m filthy rich.”

“And humble, too,” piped in Remus, a smirk on his face.

James rolled his eyes. “What’s mine is yours now, and no amount of your evading is going to change that.”

“We’re not _married,_ Prongs,” Sirius laughed. “Ease off, I can get it some other time.”

James made a face, but didn’t push him anymore. They browsed the store for a few more minutes before James made his way to the counter to purchase his things. James conversed with the shopkeeper quietly, but Sirius was too distracted staring at the hole in the collar of Remus’s t-shirt to listen to what James was saying.

Right before they exited the store, James shoved a brown parcel into Sirius’s chest. “Oi, I’m not carrying your shit around. We really _aren’t_ married, Prongsie, you do know that?”

“Quit being a tosser and just open it, will you?” James snapped, shoving the rest of his purchases into a bag with an undetectable extension charm. Sirius impatiently tore off the paper and stared, speechless, down at the beaters bat in his hand.

“You didn’t?” Sirius asked, even though it was very obvious that he had. “Why did–”

“It’s your moving out present,” James said simply.

“That’s not a thing, smart-ass,” Sirius retorted.

“It is now. I’m making it a thing, _right now,”_ James insisted.

Sirius had no idea what to say to James that would make any type of sense. He was sad, and excited, and down-right angry, but he’d never been the best at voicing what he’s feeling.

Remus slung an arm over Sirius’s shoulder, and the little remaining coherent thought evaporated. These were his friends. His _best_ friends. And it really wasn’t as big of a deal as Sirius was trying to make it out to be. He leaned into Remus’s side and shook his head. As cheesy as James’s advice had been, maybe he _should_ start watering his own grass…

“A moving out present, huh?” he said with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much to everyone that has left kudos and subscribed! i can't tell you how much it means to me that people are liking this story :')) 
> 
> so, i read a thing on tumblr about greener grasses YEARS ago and i thought it was a little ridiculous, but it also immediately reminded me of something obnoxious that james would say jdskdj
> 
> personal tid-bit: cherry turnovers are my favorite pastry. and i always try to incorporate them into my fics because they need more love.
> 
> next chapter they’re back to hogwarts and things start picking up! comments and kudos make happy brain chemicals :))


	5. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang returns to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to update, college has decided to kick my ass. as always, thanks to my beta's :))

**.: Chapter Five: Hogwarts :.**

_“If you don’t understand how a woman could both love her sister dearly and want to strangle her at the same time, then you were probably an only child.” –_ Linda Sunshine

For one of the first times in her life, Lily Evans had willingly and happily gotten right out of bed at six thirty in the morning—no dilly-dallying or a grumbled “five more minutes.” But today, with the prospect of leaving the stifling confines of her childhood home for the magical sanctuary of Hogwarts, Lily was practically bouncing off the walls as she threw the remains of her clothing in her trunk. Now that summer was over, Lily was finally willing to admit that she had had enough of her sister to last her a while—especially considering the last two weeks. Petunia had gone from silent animosity and skillful ignoring to outright hostility and screaming matches ever night since their family outing. Her mother had told her numerous times that Tuney was just ‘going through it,’ but she wasn’t ‘going through it’ with anyone else—only Lily.

It’d been three whole days since Lily had uttered a word towards her sister. When Lily had returned home from her father’s mechanic shop a few days ago, Petunia had been waiting—waiting with a slew of insults that cut through Lily’s skin like a knife, straight to the bone. Everything out of the ordinary that occurred in Petunia’s life was seemingly _always_ Lily’s fault, no matter if she’s there or not—no matter that Lily can’t even _use_ magic outside of Hogwarts, something she’s told her sister no less than a hundred times. In this instance, a small _harmless_ bunny had hopped into the house through the cat door and apparently sacred Petunia half to death. _Obviously_ it wasn’t Lily’s fault, but Petunia wouldn’t stop her screaming long enough to listen to her side of it.

Sometimes Lily likes to remember the good times that they used to have—all the days spent in the park or the games played in their living room. They used to be so close when they were in primary school, but then one sunny morning Lily had received her Hogwarts letter and Professor McGonagall had appeared on her doorstep. For the two weeks after McGonagall had taken the whole family to Diagon Alley, introducing them properly to the Wizarding World, and before Lily left for Hogwarts, Petunia had been just like her old self—if not a little more adamant that they were really “just the same type of person.” But then Lily and her newfound friend, Severus, had unearthed Petunia’s letter to Dumbledore and everything had changed—eventually snowballing and moving out of Lily’s control before she even properly understood what was happening.

At first, Lily knew that Petunia was just jealous—upset that she too couldn’t go to the fancy magical boarding school and instead was relegated to the public secondary school. Now, years of going to school in different countries—which allowed for all that resentment to fester—had forced them apart. Petunia had grown out of that petty jealously in recent years and she now harbored an actual dislike for Lily that reared its ugly head whenever Petunia was upset about something. They were family, though, and all this didn’t mean that Lily cared for her sister any less. Petunia was just… misguided. They would have time to grow out of all this when they were adults—to learn from their differences and return to the loving camaraderie they’d had as children.

Today, though, Lily was ready for some solitude.

She grabbed the bath towel hanging over the back of her desk chair and made her way down the hall to claim the shower before Petunia could get there first and begin her _long_ morning routine. The solitude from the Muggle world wasn’t without its draw backs though. Lily missed her parents immensely when she was away and the four months out of the year where she _did_ see them made all that much harder to be away. Usually she would just be getting used to life without magic—comfortable with its absence—when she would once again be boarding the Hogwarts Express.

Lily and her parents wrote letters to each other regularly, but words on paper weren’t the same as her dad ruffling her hair or her mother singing along to her own music. Rose and Edward Evans were the best parents that Lily could ask for and she loved both of them dearly. They always made sure that Lily knew she was loved and missed while she was away, and they’ve stuck to the same traditions so at least one aspect of Lily’s life had some normalcy in it. Like today, on the last morning before she returned to Hogwarts, her mother would make her a full breakfast with all her favorites and her father would read her the news out of the paper. Then they’d drive her to the station, watch her run through the magical barrier, and ensure she was safely on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters before taking their leave.

Lily sighed and tried to focus on finishing her shower before she ran out of hot water. She washed her hair twice—having neglected it in the past week—and made sure to get all the tricky spots when shaving her legs so despite her best efforts, the water was still chilly when she finally shut it off and threw open the curtain. Lily toweled off and dressed quickly, but decided to allow her hair to air-dry so her natural curl—or rather, the natural wave with two ringlets tops—could run wild. She was still patting down her hair with the towel when she ambled into the kitchen, drawn by the smell bacon. At the stove, her mum was faced away from her, humming along to the music emitting softly from the radio.

Rose Evans was a small woman, with dark hair that was shot through with strands of gray. Her face was heart-shaped, and her pale blue eyes were a stark contrast to her hair and they were always the first thing someone noticed about her. She had been more than a beautiful woman in her youth, but years of stress have added a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Lily believed, though, that Rose was the epitome of the phrase “to age gracefully”, and she was of the firm opinion that her mother was the most beautiful person to exist. Today, she wore a faded blue floral dress that was fraying a little on the hem and her customary red ruffled apron was tied around her waist.

“Morning, Mum,” Lily greeted, kissing her on the cheek and taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Good morning, dearie.” Rose smiled. “How did you sleep?”

“That depends,” Lily responded with a smirk at her mother’s back as she flipped the pancakes on the stove.

“On what?” Rose asked, turning to look at her.

“On whether you’d like the ‘I couldn’t sleep because I’ll miss you so much’ version, or the ‘I couldn’t sleep because I’m so excited about going back to school’ version.” Lily giggled as she snagged a piece of bacon off the serving plate placed in front of her.

Her mother flicked some pancake batter at Lily that fell short and landed on the dining table. Rose sighed before retorting and Lily wiped up the spot before her father saw it and it make him _weird_.

“Don’t be cheeky with me, young lady,” she scolded half-heartedly. “The sun has barely risen. And I could just turn this food off and send you away hungry.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but her mother didn’t see.

“I’m going to miss you, baby,” her mum said.

“I won’t miss you, Mum,” Lily sighed dramatically. “I _might_ just miss your cooking, though—_ooo_, and maybe your singing… your baking… your smile…your really tight hugs…”

“Oh, hush up,” Rose said, shaking her head. “Grab the juice and the glasses. Breakfast is almost ready.”

.:..:.

Two hours later, Lily was sitting in the backseat of her father’s read pickup truck. Fleetwood Mac was blaring on the radio and her parents were doing an awful job of singing along. Petunia was sitting next to Lily with her arms crossed and staring out the window with a sour look on her face, leaning as far away from Lily’s owl Aurelian as she could. Lily, though, was content. Everything was as it should be, as seemingly dysfunctional as it was. She was going back to Hogwarts, her parents were holding hands over the center console, and Petunia was…well, Petunia.

Lily began to sing along, too.

Finding a parking spot in London was always difficult, but eventually her father was loading her things onto a trolley. As usual, Edward pushed it along for her while Lily kept a hand on Aurelian’s cage to keep it from toppling as they were jostled by all the people around them. Her dad was a nostalgic person, so it wasn’t a surprise when he started talking about the first time they’d done this walk through King’s Cross. The comfort of the same routine, repeated year after year, eased the nerves starting to take root in her stomach. As much as her waxing about how great Hogwarts was, it was a stressful place full of trick stairs and grueling essays.

Lily buried her face in her mother’s neck as Rose wrapped her arms tightly around her. They were standing a few feet away from the barrier, next to the sign that said ‘Platform Nine.’

“This seems to be the end of the road for your ordinary Muggle family.” Rose smiled sadly, softly touching her cheek and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You lot are _anything_ but ordinary,” Lily corrected. “I love you guys, and I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“Not so fast young lady,” Edward said, even though Lily had made no move to go anywhere. “Give your old man a hug, and let me give you the Speech.”

“Ah, yes,” Lily laughed. _“The Speech.”_

Her dad stood up straighter and cleared his throat as he rested a hand on her shoulder. He always acted so serious, and it amused her to no end. Every year before she went through the barrier, her father would give her the so _eloquently_ named ‘Speech’. Although the first few lines remained the same, something different was added to it every year. Lily secretly thought that her father worked on it all year round just to be ready when the time came.

The first year that she walked through the barrier with Professor McGonagall, the concept that there were actual witches and wizards living among them was still very fresh in all their minds. The advice, then, was simple: pay attention in class, and learn as much as she possibly could about her new world. Second year was different, and she could still remember the amused glint in her father’s eye when he told her to _not_ punch that Mulciber kid in the face again, and to find different ways to handle bullies. Lily still laughed about that sometimes, as she’d found a particularly nasty boils hex that she’d used instead. In her third year, the year that James Potter became a beacon of trouble in her life, he’d told her to not get any more detentions because of ‘that damned Potter kid.’ She got one in her first week back when he used a sticking charm to glue her hair to the back of her seat. She found it appropriate to respond with her new found need for colorful language. Professor McGonagall had sternly told her that, “even if the circumstances were worthy of crass wording, didn’t mean that they were allowed nor necessary”.

Before her fourth year, her father told her to simply make new friends. That was the year that she’d found Alice Fortesque crying in the fourth floor loo because her dorm mates were making fun of her shortly cropped hair. The persistent teasing coming from the older girl’s dormitory was enough for Lily to invite Alice to stay with her and her friends in their dorm—after she’d agreed, they asked McGonagall to conjure another bed, and then Ailana shaved her head in a show of solidarity.

Last year, her fifth year, it was to stick by Severus. Lily thought it was simply because her father knew how much his friendship meant to her, despite the complaints she had written home about him. She wasn’t sure how much her father _actually_ wanted her to remain friends with him, but he had indulged her anyway. She’d tried to listen to him last year, she _really_ did, and it resulted in one of the _worst_ falling outs in Hogwarts history.

Every year, no matter if she listens to the advice or not, it was still the thing that brought her father comfort before he sent his daughter away for three-quarters of the year. It also allowed her to carry a part of her father with her when she was at school, and it allows her to focus on something other than schoolwork when it gets to be too overwhelming. So every year, she simply pretends to forget about the ‘Speech’ because she secretly yearns for the fatherly advice, no matter how small or inconsequential it may seem.

She smiled and looked into her father’s emerald eyes—_her eyes_, and prompted him to begin.

“Now that you’re off into your own little world, which I imagine is anything but little, you’ve got to follow these three simple steps to be a successful young…” he looked around suspiciously before whispering, “_witch._ Step one: Never dumb yourself down for anybody, not even for some hotshot sports star that’s trying to gain your attention. Step two: Don’t break _too_ many rules. A couple of them are alright then and again, but break too many and it may seem like a–”

“–Cry for attention,” Lily completed, interrupting him with a smile, knowing that that was what he was going to say, despite this being the new part of the Speech.

“Hey, if you interrupt the Speech, it takes away its authenticity,” Edward laughed, raising his eyebrows.

Lily mimed zipping her mouth shut.

“Step three: Stick up for people who can’t stick up for themselves, and don’t allow anyone to degrade you or tell you that you’re less than what you are. Because any daughter of Rose Evans is going to go on to do great things,” he said. His eyes briefly flicked towards his wife lovingly, before turning back to Lily. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. “But… if you believe the bad things others say about you then you allow them to win. No daughter of _mine_ would ever allow anyone to do that, right?” her dad asked.

“Right,” Lily responded just as quietly.

“Okay, ready for me to bring it home?” he asked, his voice brightening again.

“Of course, Dad.” Lily smiled.

“This year’s oh-so-great-advice, Lily, is to take a chance. Do something that you wouldn’t normally do and don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks about it. For the first year since you’ve become aware of your other life, Severus is not there to hold you back. I know that he meant a lot to you, and that he was the beginning of everything for you, but he kept you from the other things that you wanted to pursue. Or the other _people_ you wanted to pursue. So this year, I want you to take a chance,” Edward finished.

“I will Dad, thank you,” Lily said, her face reddening as her thoughts derailed slightly.

“But, you don’t always have to follow my advice because I’m getting old. I wouldn’t listen to too many things that come out of my mouth because,” he leaned in and lowered his voice comically, “I think I’m getting senile.”

Her mum let out a snort from where she stood behind Lily, and even Petunia looked to be hiding a smile when Lily peeked over her shoulder. Lily gave her parents each one more hug, her mother holding on to her for longer than usual, before turning, at last, to her sister. Petunia allowed Lily to hug her, but it was stiff and formal, nothing like the hug a departing sister would be expected to give.

Lily said goodbye one last time, and jogged through the barrier. She looked at the clock and squeaked, realizing she only had ten minutes before the train would be pulling out of the station. Not having the time to find her friends on the platform beforehand, Lily settled for lugging her trunk down the corridor in search of the girls. Of course, they were at the complete opposite end of the train, and her arms were aching by the time she found them.

She gave a very un-Lily-like squeal when she opened the compartment door and laid eyes on Emmeline Vance, whom she hadn’t seen since school released at the end of last term.

“Emmeline!” Lily yelled, pouncing on her friend and nearly smothering her in a hug. “Where have you been? You could’ve written more than twice, you fool!”

“You know me,” Emmeline chuckled. “You’re looking at the most unreliable letter writer ever.”

“So tell me now!” Lily said, pushing herself into a sitting position. “What have you been up to that kept you too busy to write?”

“There better be either a handsome bloke or a pretty bird involved in this story,” Ailana interrupted, propping her feet up on Marlene’s lap. “Otherwise, I probably don’t want to hear it.”

“You do know that Emmeline is probably the straightest person here, right?” Lily laughed.

“I do,” Ailana said, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold out hope that I can turn her yet.”

“Please Ailana,” Emmeline scoffed. “We all know that you’re hopelessly in love with me and are trying in vain to win me over. You _wish_ you could get a girl like me.”

“No, I do believe that it would be _you_ who would be lucky to get a girl like _me_,” Ailana smirked. “I’m quite the catch, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Be that as it may,” Emmeline smiled. “There _is_ a bloke and _Merlin…_ he makes even you look like a mere seven Ailana.”

Ailana sat up and leaned forward eagerly. “Well I’ll be damned, please tell us of this oh-so-handsome man that beats even the woes of me.”

“Yeah, how’d you meet him?” Lily asked.

“What’s his name?” Marlene added.

“His name is Miguel,” Emmeline began hesitantly. “We met when my family and I were staying in our villa in Tuscany. He worked at one of the local shops and offered to help me carry my groceries home when my bike got a flat tire. It’s the most cliché way we could have met. Honestly, it was almost straight out of one of those romance novels that my mother loves, but I guess that clichés are clichés for a reason… they’re cute and they work.”

“What’s he like though?” Mary asked.

“Oh, he’s _brilliant_,” Emmeline sighed dreamily. “He makes _the best_ Ribollita that you’ll ever have, and just the way he talks makes you… _melt_. Even my father liked him.”

“Hmm,” Ailana mused. “I would like to try this man’s Ribollita.”

“That’s all you got out of that?” Marlene laughed.

“In case you’ve _forgotten_, love, mooning over men is about my least favorite thing to do,” Ailana said snobbishly. “Plus, Ribollita happens to be my favorite dish. It’s the only _non-_Spanish dish that my grandmother makes, and we eat it every time we go to visit her. It’s the best part of the whole trip, especially when all she wants to do is set me up with the ‘boys down the road.’”

“Anyway, moving away from the beginning of Ailana’s tiff with her grandmother,” Lily said quickly, looking at Ailana out of the corner of her eye and giving her a reassuring smile. “What about dates? Where was your favorite one?”

“Can’t we talk about your summers?” Emmeline deflected. “Or literally anything else.”

“No,” everyone chorused at once. Emmeline sighed, and looked to the ceiling like she was praying for patience, but Lily knew that she was secretly excited to tell them everything about it.

“About a week before I was due to come back home, he took me out into the country where he had a whole set up, honestly the whole shebang. There was a picnic blanket and candles and wine and chocolate…” She sighed. “It was _beautiful._ He told me that it was his favorite place in the world because it was easier to see the stars, but I think he just wanted to get us away from distractions and the people who were always interrupting our dates.”

“Interrupting, huh?” Ailana said, raising an eyebrow.

“Does your brain naturally go there or do you just never leave?” Lily blushed. “Not everything that gets interrupted is sexual.”

“You’re absolutely right Lils,” Emmeline smirked. “But you know how Ailana’s got that knack for always being right about things.”

“You didn’t?” Marlene gasped.

“I _did_,” Emmeline confirmed whimsically. “In a field under the stars.”

“Damn,” Mary said. “He sure knows how to woo a girl doesn’t he?”

_Or say the right things,_ the cynical part of Lily’s brain whispered. She was happy for her friend, of course she was, but summer romances never seemed to last and she didn’t wish Emmeline any unnecessary heartbreak.

“Too right you are,” Emmeline smiled, obviously not feeling the same way about it that Lily was.

“Wait ‘till Alice hears about this, though,” Marlene laughed. “Her maternal instincts will kick in like _wildfire_, and you’ll be questioned half to death about whether or not you used protection.”

“Speaking of Alice… where is she?” Lily asked, trying again to hide her blush.

Mary scoffed.

“What?” Lily asked.

“She got Head Girl this year and didn’t bother to tell _any_ of us!” Ailana supplied.

“But why wouldn’t she tell us?” Lily wondered. “That’s an _amazing_ accomplishment! I’m so proud of her!”

“Beats us,” Emmeline answered.

“But she should still be here, shouldn’t she?” Lily asked.

“No,” Ailana smirked. “There’s a Prefects meeting right about now that you happen to be ten minutes late for.”

“Shit,” Lily hissed, jumping up from her seat. “Why didn’t you remind me sooner?”

“We like for you to suffer!” Ailana yelled as Lily stumbled over her friends and fell out of the compartment.

She jogged down the corridor towards the Prefects carriage and came upon it just as Remus Lupin, her Gryffindor Prefect counterpart, was walking in, so she suddenly wasn’t as worried about being as late as she was. However, she was still extremely late, and more than a few people eyed her disdainfully as she shut the door behind her. She caught Alice’s eye as she slid into the middle bench of the Gryffindor section and gave her a wink and an encouraging smile. Lily wasn’t at all surprised to see that Frank Longbottom was standing next to her with a shiny Head Boy badge pinned on his chest. _‘The head dorms were going to be extra cozy this term,’_ Lily thought, chuckling under her breath.

“Great,” Frank said, clapping his hands. “Now that everyone’s here we can begin. I’m sure most of you already know who we are, but for those who don’t, I’m Frank Longbottom, and this here is the lovely Alice Fortesque, and we’re your Head students this year. I’d like to start with congratulating the new fifth year Prefects and remind them that they have to read the booklet I gave them or they will be _terminated._”

“He’s kidding,” Alice laughed, trying to ease the tension once she caught sight of the terrified looks on the younger students’ faces. “Just know that you’re supposed to step in when confronted with a disciplinary situation, and if you have any questions, just let us know.”

“Right, what she said.” Frank chuckled. “Secondly, for this year we’re going to keep the Patrol partners the same as last year unless there’s an equitable circumstance. If that’s the case, then you can just bring it to us and we’ll deal with it accordingly.”

“That means for fifth years, you’ll have to work with a fellow fifth year, but not necessarily the other Prefect in your house. Inter-house patrols are perfectly acceptable, encouraged even,” Alice added. “But we plan to have you paired with a seventh year from your own house for your first patrol so you can be shown the ropes by someone who you should already be familiar with.”

“Thirdly, fifth years, while you’re on the train, you need to make regular patrols and badges must be worn at all times. You can’t discipline without them. At the end of the day, if you’ve taken charge of a situation where you had to give a detention, then you need to fill out a report and put it in either mine or Alice’s tray in the Heads Office,” Frank said. His carefree manner was infectious, and Lily couldn’t help but smile at him. “Do you have anything else to add, love?”

“All that’s left is the matter of the dorm passwords. They’re pinned on the board by the door, _and_ they’re charmed, so you can only read the one that you’ll need to access your House’s dormitory. Make sure you look at them before you leave. Fifth years need to show the new first years in their respective houses to their dorms after the Welcome Feast, so make sure you wait up for them in the Great Hall. Also, on your way out the door, we need all of the older Prefects to sign up for two patrol spots, and we’ll make the schedule for the rest of term,” Alice informed.

“That covers everything,” Frank said, clapping his hands once.

“We’ll see you guys in two weeks,” Alice finished.

Remus leaned over and half-whispered into her ear.

“They’re going to get married one day,” he said.

“I know.” Lily smiled.

.:..:.

After greeting Frank and Alice with a hug and apologizing for her lateness, Lily exited the compartment and was surprised to see that Remus was following along behind her—even though they’d originally came from opposite directions. They made it through two whole train cars with Remus was still following her, so Lily turned and started walking backwards, eyeing him.

“You coming to say hello to the girls, or something?” Lily asked.

“Or something,” he smiled. “James told me that they were going in search of Emmeline because of some Italian chocolate that she promised them. I’m assuming they’re still there annoying everybody.”

“Hmm,” Lily murmured, still walking backwards. Remus reached out to lay a steadying hand on her arm to move her around the group of third years packing up the hallway.

Lily and Remus correspond regularly over the summer holidays, so she was already caught up on everything in his life, but she still said, “Can I ask you a question, Remus?”

He took a second before answering, likely thinking of all the other times his friends have asked him things. “Sure,” he said warily.

“How’s Sirius?” Lily asked. “I figured you’d have different information than Potter would considering that… well, you know.”

“Considering what?” he asked, obviously confused.

“Oh,” Lily gasped hurriedly. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean anything. I just—uh, I just thought he’d… well that he’d tell you something different than what he told Potter, that’s all.”

She tried not to blush, but she was a redhead and it was inevitable, so she spun back around to walk properly and looped her arm through his. She’s seen the way that Remus looked at Sirius, and the way that he always seemed to be more attentive to Sirius’s moods. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

“Okay, well I’ll ignore the fact that you just lied to me,” Remus began, “and tell that I really do think he’s doing better. Mrs. Potter barely left him alone all summer, and they spent every morning of the last week of holiday eating breakfast and playing chess together. And Hogwarts is always good for him, you know that, so I think it can only be uphill from here.”

Lily nodded and held onto Remus’s arm a little tighter. “Plus, being around everyone at school will be a nice change of pace for him,” she added, pulling from her own experience of Sirius’s moods. “Other people will be good for him, let him blend into the crowd and settle himself a little.”

“When have you ever known Sirius to blend into anything?” Remus laughed. “He’s about as dramatic and outgoing as someone could get.”

They finally reached the compartment, and the sheer amount of noise resonating from behind the closed door almost made Lily want to head in the opposite direction. Remus had a hold of her arm, though, so she was pulled over the threshold with him.

“My, my, Red,” Sirius clucked over the din. “I’m almost positive your hair is more vibrant now than it was when I last saw you.”

“You’re seeing things, Black,” she retorted, lightly shoving him out of the way so she could sit next to Ailana (which also happened to be across from Potter, but she ignored that small fact). Sirius exaggerated her push, and fell back into his seat with a loud ‘_oof.’_ He stretched his arms above his head, flexing his biceps as he did—whether intentionally or not, and tipped his head back to the ceiling. Lily surreptitiously glanced in Remus’s direction to see him eye the curve of Sirius’s neck. He swallowed audibly and looked down at his hands.

_‘Oblivious,’_ she thought with an eye-roll.

“Oi, Evans,” James nudged her knee with the tip of his shoe. “What do you get when you cross a vampire with a snowman?”

“Ugh, not _again,_ Potter,” Lily groaned, leaning her head on Ailana’s shoulder in exasperation. “I’m sure I’ve heard this one before.”

“You’ve never heard it!” James insisted. “I just thought of it!”

“Yeah, he thinks of ‘em all on his own and immediately says, ‘_oh,_ I have to tell _Lily_ this new _joke_ I made up! Do you think she’ll _laugh,_ Padfoot? _Do you?’_” Sirius said, in a pretty accurate imitation of James’s accent. There was a slight flush high on James’s cheeks, and Lily felt as though her face was on fire, but he just looked back to her and nodded enthusiastically.

“Lily, _what_ do you get when you cross a vampire and a snowman?” he repeated, that sparkle in his eyes that Lily had always, despite her best efforts, adored.

Lily knew that James was a charming bloke, but she much preferred this version of him. The unguarded version, and the one that blushed when his best friend teased him. The best version of James was the one who stuttered over his words, tripped over his own feet, and ran restless hands through his hair. She would only admit this on her deathbed, but she liked being able to make him incoherent. It made her feel like an actual woman to be able to make—Morgana _strike_ her down—an attractive bloke fall all over himself.

“I don’t know, Potter,” she finally relented. “What do you get?”

“Frostbite!” he exclaimed.

She laughed.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

James grinned, but tried not to let the full amount of the joy he was feeling show on his face. Making Lily laugh was one of the highlights of his life, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Her laugh was like… _sunshine,_ and he knew that Sirius would laugh himself sick if he ever said that out loud, but that was the simplest way to describe it to someone. It was also like a favorite song that you hadn’t heard in a while, but never forgot about. Or maybe it was like the warm comfort of a crackling fire after a day spent in the snow. Honestly, James could go on about her laugh forever and never run out of cliché, poetic metaphors.

He could strangle Sirius right now, though, for that comment he made and the fact that it caused Lily embarrassment. As much as he loved the warm flush on her face, and the way that it always crept up her neck first, he didn’t want to _embarrass_ her. He still felt like he was on thin ice because of the ‘incident’ that happened at the end of last term, and pushing her right now wasn’t something he wanted or needed. It certainly wouldn’t help him in the long run. And besides, he much preferred it when she flushed in anger; he loved the way it made her eyes _shine_ like emeralds in the sea.

He was still watching her giggle when Emmeline piped up from down the bench. “Oh I forgot to ask, Lils,” she said. “How’s George?”

“He’s a right piece of shite,” Lily disclosed. “But I love him anyway.”

_George? Love?_ He was definitely missing something because there was no way that Lily had a boyfriend that he didn’t know about. And even if she did, James didn’t want to think about it—like _at all._

“What’s going to happen now that you’re at school?” Mary asked.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I was promised pictures and updates.” She sighed dramatically.

_Pictures?_ James was sure he was going to combust. His hands were a little sweaty, and he no longer knew how to sit properly. _Where were his feet supposed to go? And was the bench always this hard? What should he do with his hands? _

He was hot. He ran a hand through his hair, and Lily zeroed in on the motion. He lowered his hand immediately, remembering, even in his flustered state, how much she hated when he did that. Yup, he was going to pass out.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Peter piped up from the floor. “Is he a Muggle?”

James had never appreciated the small blonde boy as much as he did in that moment. He never would have been able to voice the question on his own because his stomach was lodged somewhere in his throat. However, he was _absolutely_ certain that he _didn’t_ know if he wanted to hear the answer.

“What?” Lily scrunched up nose and looked to her friends.

Ailana started laughing first, and Lily joined her soon after.

_Sunshine,_ his mind automatically supplied.

“George is nine months old,” Lily managed to say between laughs. “Katie, that’s his mum, couldn’t afford to take a lot of time off of work, so I babysat for her this summer. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

James let out a puff of air, and Sirius jabbed him in the side with his _very_ pointy elbow. James remembered where to put his feet.

.:..:.

The rest of the train ride passed in pleasurable company. James listened animatedly to everyone’s recollections of their summers, joining Sirius in his embellishments of their own stories. Laughter reflected on everyone’s faces, and James was glad to see the glimmer back in Sirius’s eyes. Things were going to return to normal, and everything was going to be okay. James was sure of it. As the Astronomy tower finally came into view, the compartment was, miraculously, silent. The moment felt comfortable and almost intimate. No one spoke, not wanting to interrupt their first glance of their home away from home.

James and his friends trudged back to their own compartment two train cars down to change into their school robes before the train rolled into Hogsmeade station. With all the bustle of activity on the platform, it was practically impossible to find the girls again, although he knew that he saw a quick flash of Lily’s red hair. James stepped into the carriage behind Peter, and they started moving before anyone other than the four of them could climb in.

On the last stretch of lane to the front doors, the entirety of Hogwarts finally came into view. Sirius was joking around with Peter, but James just peered out over the Black Lake to the hulking mass of stone. Even after growing up with magic in his life from day one, there was still something so breathtakingly… _magical_ about Hogwarts. Even the outside looked as though it belonged in a book rather than real life. The inside though—_Oh, the inside,_ that was something straight out of James most well-imagined prank. The moving staircases that seem to malfunction on purpose; the hundreds upon _hundreds_ of talking portraits; the Forbidden Forest and its’ gamekeeper, Hagrid; Peeves; the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall; the ghosts that had no consideration for personal space; and the Whomping Willow on full moons… everything had a certain quality that there were no words for.

Disembarking onto the front steps, the chatter of the other students permeated James’s subconscious. Peter gave him a shove in the back, and James responded with smack to the back of the head. He was _here._

Only a few students milled around outside the castle doors, likely searching for their friends, but everyone else made their way into the Entrance Hall, almost as if they were in a trance. Lily and the girls had made it to the Great Hall before them, so the Marauders snagged the four seats to their left. Sirius fell into Mary’s side and exclaimed that it had been too long since they’d seen each other.

“We saw each other twenty minutes ago, Black,” Mary had replied, putting a palm to Sirius’s face and pushing him away. He collapsed against Remus instead, but what he said was lost to James’s ears. James had forgot how loud the Feasts were, but when Sirius sat straight up after Remus had whispered a reply into his ear, James reasoned that he didn’t want to hear it anyway. Whatever makes _Sirius_ blush, was something that was sure to make James have a coronary.

It finally began to quiet down when the first years followed McGonagall into the hall. They were all huddled together in a tight group, as if they feared straying to far from the person next to them would cause them to be swallowed up by the void.

“I feel like they get tinier every year,” Sirius murmured. “It looks as if I could crush the lot of ‘em under my boot without even realizing it.”

James snorted, but tried to turn it into a cough.

“They look petrified,” Sirius chuckled.

“I _distinctly_ remember that you were scared out of your wits as well,” James reminded.

“You would be too if you expected be put in Slytherin. It was very clear that if I wasn’t in Slytherin, then I’d be a _disgrace_ to the name of Black,” Sirius intoned sarcastically. “My family’s been in Slytherin since _the beginning of time,_ even sweet ole Andromeda. But I associated Slytherin with my family, whom I hate, so I knew I had no chance of being placed there. You can bet your bloody tea-cozies I was fucking terrified.”

James tried to ignore Remus and Lily’s dark looks from the other side of the table, but they were scorching. James, realizing his mistake in bringing up this line of conversation, reached across the table and gripped his best mates shoulder.

“Sorry,” James whispered. “That was stupid of me to say.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Sirius scoffed. “There was nothing to be worried about. Everything worked out the way it should be… my family is still a pile of dung-heads, and the hat put me in Gryffindor.”

Sirius shrugged, and James hated himself a little more as he saw Sirius’s shaking hand disappear under the table. Before he could think of anything worthy enough to say, McGonagall called forth the first lucky eleven year old. He was a scrawny kid that was shaking like a leaf, but he managed to conceal it fairly well for a first year. In fact, James wouldn’t have even noticed it if he hadn’t been uncomfortable and pointedly ignoring Remus and Lily’s heated stares.

As soon as the hat touched the boys’ head, it bellowed: “SLYTHERIN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! I honestly expected literally no one to do that. so i know that this is 'back to hogwarts,' but the next chapter is the first one that actually takes place IN hogwarts and i'm ready for y'all to read it.


	6. An Ominous Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily spends her first day at Hogwarts with a pit in her stomach... she doesn't really want to know why, but life's got other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, hope y'all enjoy. sorry for the delay between updates. i'd tell you it won't happen again, but that's probs a lie

_“Sure, it was nice now, but eventually there would be running and screaming and blood on the floor.”_ – Kim Harrison, _A Perfect Blood_

Lily was back in the field, the one with the bees and the bright sunlight… the one where Potter was standing in the middle and calling her name. This time though, there’s a darker tinge around the edge and, as she watches, the sun sinks behind the horizon and the bees all die in mid flight.

Suddenly, everything seemed to morph at once, no longer a gradual change. It set a funny and uneasy tingle loose in her bones when she looked around and saw the trees decay into crumbling wood and the billowing wheat fields turn to dust. It was as if everything was in fast forward while she was stuck in slow motion.

She was torn from her pseudo nightmare by a hard pillow smack in the face, and she yelped before falling sideways and landing in a heap on the floor, entangled with the red hangings from her four-poster. After the dizziness and the split second disorientation of having no idea where she was had passed, she groaned into her arm and pulled her blankets closer to her body.

“Ailana!” she cried, throwing her pillow—which she had dragged to the floor with her—in the general area she knew her friend usually stood to wake her up.

“Ah,” Ailana sighed. “I missed the ‘morning-time-Lily-throws-things’ tantrums.”

“That is the one thing I definitely did _not_ miss,” Emmeline snickered. “I no longer volunteer to wake up the beast after I got a _shoe_ to the head at the end of fourth year.”

Ailana chuckled as she ripped Lily’s blanket off of her. “Up and at ‘em, my curvy ball of hell-fire,” she drawled, leaning down to pat Lily twice on her bottom. “Classes are in forty, and I assume you want breakfast.”

Lily struggled to her feet, groped around for her clothes, and unceremoniously stumbled towards the bathroom, leaning against the doorway to regain her balance. She stood there until she nodded off again. Ailana spotted this and gave her another push, laughing some more. Mornings were not Lily’s friend, and this one was made worse by the fact she’d stayed up later than usual, talking late into the night with the girls.

“Do I need to undress you as well? Or can you manage that much on your own?” Ailana asked dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah, Ailana. I’m getting ready,” she mumbled, closing the bathroom door. Lily splashed some water on her face in a vain attempt to wake and rouse her still sleeping brain.

She was out of the bathroom, book bag in hand, and into the stairwell before she knew it. She was running on autopilot, her body knowing what it needed to do before her brain could catch up. Mary was the only one that had waited for her to get ready, and she chatted away as they made their way through the portrait hole.

Lily was only absently listening to her friend because her sense of foreboding had followed her into the corridor, and she couldn’t shake her unease. She had only had this panicky, something-bad-is-coming feeling twice before. The first time, she was nine, and it was the day her dog, Sam, had died. As soon as she’d woken up, this overwhelming sense of dread settled on her shoulders until later that afternoon her father came up to her room and relayed the news. The second time it happened, she was fifteen and that was quite possibly the worst day of her life. Losing your best friend tends to have that effect on someone.

So as Lily walked into the Great Hall, she scanned the tables for any signs of chaos before settling next to her friends at the end of the Gryffindor table. She rested her head on her hand and continued looking around the hall, working herself into a slight panic as she did. Her mind was whirring with all the horrible possibilities.

“You okay, Lily?” she heard Remus Lupin ask.

“Oh, ‘m fine,” she mumbled, shaking her head as if that would help her clear it.

She was listening to the conversation around her in silence, still contemplating the buzzing feeling in her nerves, when the usual influx of owls bombarded the Hall. Lily watched the magnificent display, a sight that she still found mesmerizing even after all these years, and tuned out the conversations around her. She remembered being quite startled the first time the Owl Post had arrived, not knowing that that was how they delivered the mail in the wizarding world. She still found it funny that _wizards,_ of all people, used such medieval ways to communicate and still managed to brag about how ‘advanced’ they were over other creatures and Muggles. She usually liked to watch for her owl, but this time her stomach was twisted into knots as she searched for Aurelian.

She feared he would be carrying bad news.

But when she didn’t see him, she let out a sigh of relief. Then immediately wondered if him missing was the reason for her shakiness.

Lily scarfed down the rest of her breakfast quickly when she saw Professor McGonagall making her way around, collaborating schedules with the sixth years that were taking on or dropping subjects for their N.E.W.T. years. Lily was the last of her friends to be consulted by her Professor, and it seemed to take longer than usual. After what felt like forever, she managed to qualify for the five classes she had wanted, leaving her with two free periods a day. Happy with her schedule, she strode out of the Great Hall, only slightly bleary-eyed at this point, and walked quickly to the Transfiguration classroom, not wanting McGonagall to somehow beat her there.

Mercifully, she made it to the classroom before McGonagall, and plopped down in the seat next to Ailana. Lily smiled weakly at her best friend and pulled out her _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ textbook.

“Finally awake, Lils?” Ailana greeted, tucking a strand of hair behind Lily’s ear. “Are you alright? You don’t look too good.”

“So far,” Lily chuckled. “Ask me again at the end of the day.”

Ailana had grown over the summer, and she was even an inch taller than Marlene now. Courtesy of the Beater position she occupied on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ailana was always physically fit, and she had cropped her hair short—it was only long enough to curl slightly at the ends and bounce as she walked. Her skin was smooth and of a darker tone—the color of melted caramel, which was merely a shade lighter than her chocolate brown eyes. Ailana was born and raised in the south of Spain, but moved to the London countryside in order to attend Hogwarts like her parents did.

It was _because_ of her parents, and the way that they raised her, that she always wore something of color with her school uniform, saying, “The whole black and white thing really isn’t my style.” On one occasion, Lily remembered Ailana sporting a bright yellow sunflower in her hair that clashed horridly with the patterned scarf around her neck. She didn’t seem to mind the stares of those around her, though. That was one thing about her; she disregarded everything that people said about her, and was the type of person who literally didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her.

“Well, let’s talk about me now,” Ailana sighed, once again pushing her traitorous hair out of her face. “Did you hear the rumors flying around about me already?

There was a fellow sixth year Slytherin that was always saying nasty things about Ailana. Ailana had never told her _why_ Ami was so spiteful, and Lily wasn’t sure she’d ever get the whole story. Once Ami had realized attacking Ailana’s appearance wouldn’t faze her, she started spreading heinous rumors about her. Some of the rumors were sometimes the exaggeration of the truth, but most of the time they were _really_ horrible lies. The rumor mill at Hogwarts was renowned for its speed at getting cruel and falsified information out to its population, but information about Ailana always seemed to circulate first. In the last few months of fifth year, the rumors had become so astronomical that it had become almost a game between them—Lily trying to guess the rumor and Ailana exaggerating the lie even more. Laughing at the situation together was a lot better than letting them get under Ailana’s skin.

Lily hoped it always stayed that way, and that Ailana never took any of it to heart.

“I didn’t hear the rumors, no,” Lily responded. “It’s first period on the _very_ first day of term. How much material could she have to work with already?”

Ailana just shrugged and pulled her long legs up under her. “Take a guess, Lils.”

“Well, let’s see then,” Lily began, recalling some of the rumors from last year. “Did you bribe Potter with a shag to secure your Quidditch position? Or did you kiss a Slytherin in the Charms corridor? Better yet, _Remus Lupin_… it always has _something_ to do with Remus Lupin.”

“Wow, you’re really close Lily,” Ailana deadpanned. “I had a secret _rendezvous_ in a broom cupboard—with a Slytherin _and_ Remus Lupin.”

“Hardy-har har Ailana, what is it really?”

“Oh the usual,” Ailana sighed, rolling her eyes. “I argued with that Ravenclaw chick, you know the one I’m talking about… big boobs, small brain, always carries around that awful looking feather quill?”

Lily nodded, not even bothering to hide her amusement as Ailana continued.

“Well apparently I was ‘asserting my dominance’ over her boyfriend—her _boy_friend, by trying to _seduce him_ into going up to the Astronomy tower with me. As if! First off, that’s where straight couples go because it’s drafty and convenient. No girl wants to get hot and heavy next to a rickety old railing and a who-knows-how-long meter drop. That is just... _unrealistic.”_

“I’ve busted more than a few couples in the Astronomy tower, and the girls didn’t seem to complain about the location too much,” Lily rebutted. “Also, there’s this–”

“That’s because they have no standards,” Ailana interjected. “The only evidence I need to support this argument is that they like men.”

“Liking boys doesn’t mean you don’t have standards,” Lily laughed.

“But why would you like boys when girls are so much prettier?” Ailana continued. “The only purpose that men serve is to reach things on high shelves, but—one, I’m already tall, and—two, I’m a freaking witch, so I can just levitate things down to me.”

Ailana was grinning, clearly pleased with herself, when McGonagall waltzed into the classroom. She flicked her wand at the chalkboard and the letters N.E.W.T. wrote themselves out in a neat loopy scrawl. Below that, notes on today’s lesson began appearing as well, and the class began to copy them down in near silence. _Near_ silence, meaning that Sirius Black was still whispering fervently behind her, and when Lily looked around, his head was bent close to Potter’s and his hand was waving wildly.

“Mr. Black,” McGonagall called from the front of the room. “I assume you have already written down what you needed? Or would you like to indulge the class on what you’re speaking of, as it seems far more pertinent than copying down important notes?”

“No, thank you, ma’am.” Sirius smiled, flashing her a cheeky grin. “Strictly Marauder business, I’m sure you understand?”

The professor raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Mr. Black, but if you would, please refrain from discussing it when I am trying to start a class,” said McGonagall sternly.

Sirius saluted her with a finger to his temple and then slung an arm around his knee, pulling the appendage closer to his chest. He still didn’t write anything down, but Lily knew he didn’t need to. Whatever Sirius Black read or saw, he’d remember. Lily had jokingly asked him about having an eidetic memory, or whatever the ‘advanced’ wizarding equivalent was, in their fourth year when Lily had forced him to the library with her. His face had immediately lost its smile and gone blank. “Remembering everything that has ever happened in your life isn’t as great as it sounds,” he had said. Lily had snapped her mouth shut and was unable to find a worthy enough response.

Sirius had dutifully sat with her, staring aimlessly out the window, for the hour that he had promised. She hadn’t brought it up again.

“Okay class, today you are entering your first N.E.W.T level year at Hogwarts before you are thrust—hopefully not completely ungracefully—into the real world. Everything you learn in this class from here on out will be to prepare you for said N.E.W.T examinations that you’ll take at the end of your seventh year. You will need to study _very hard_ in order to scrape up a passing grade for my class, but a good grade in my class usually corresponds to a good grade on your N.E.W.T.s. These exams are critical, and doing well on said exams will be the key to getting a well-paying job once you leave Hogwarts. This Transfiguration course is necessary to be able to pursue a great number of different professions, including an Auror or a Healer.

“For these next two years,” McGonagall continued, “we will begin with larger animal transfigurations and progress to full Human Transfigurations by the end of the year. Now–” McGonagall grabbed her wand from its place on her desk and began her lesson plan. She dropped so many hints about the ‘biggest test of their lives’ that Lily’s already frazzled nerves sent a zing through her brain, and a slight ache began forming at her temples.

Nearing the end of the class period, McGonagall released them to practice the spell they had just spent forty-five minutes learning the theory for. When the clock was nearing the dismissal time, and the class was packing up their things, the older witch assigned a three-foot long essay that made the entire class groan. Lily heard James’s exclamation of discontent over the rest of the conversation in the classroom. It made her shake her head when she heard him say, “How does she expect me to even _want_ to do her homework when she assigns this much on the first day? It’s like she thinks that I have an affinity for her subject or something.”

When her next period rolled around, Lily was already tired of the _N.E.W.T. speech._ Flitwick talked of the same things that McGonagall did; how this was the beginning of their most important years of schooling, that slacking off wasn’t an option, and that the only thing lying ahead of them were their mindless jobs and the real world. It was as if the teachers were trying to psych them out or something.

By the end of her second class of the day, Lily was so bored that she’d almost completely forgotten about her own personal cloud of dread that was following her around. The free period spent catching up on sleep in her dormitory was well needed, but apparently her brain didn’t think it was enough. Only a teacher could drone on for hours at a time about the importance of one bloody test and then assign mountains of essays that would take them all night.

Her patience was especially thin as she stepped into last period Potions. Having to stop a first year from walking through a trapdoor, breaking up a fistfight between two fifth year boys, and _still_ having no idea why she felt so weird, could do that to a person. She had no desire whatsoever to deal with even her favorite professor as she took her seat at one of the middle tables. Of course, Lily greeted him with as much enthusiasm as he greeted her with, but she could tell that he knew it was forced. He patted her on the shoulder and told her it was lovely to see her anyway.

When Severus sat down next to her, Lily visibly stiffened. She knew that they’d be paired up because who else would Slughorn reasonably put them with? Even so, it was still an unpleasant thing to sit next to your ex-best friend and know that he thought less of you for something you couldn’t control.

Lily didn’t even look his way when Slughorn began one of his own tirades about N.E.W.T. expectations; she just dazedly looked in front of her and rested her chin on her open palm. Lily already knew that the political climate outside of Hogwarts was sketchy at best, so finding a reasonable job as a Muggleborn was likely to be hard. People were scared and didn’t want to be targeted. Lily really couldn’t blame them, even if it did frustrate her to no end.

So instead of listening to Slughorn talk amicably about his former students, Lily fell into a daze. She didn't know where she was looking, or for how long, until her elbow slipped off the edge of the table with a loud ‘thwump'. She jumped, regaining her focus quickly, and found herself staring at the back of James Potter’s head. She looked around quickly to make sure no one saw anything before she looked back at him. The little curl of hair at the nape of his neck was seemingly very important to her subconscious mind, and her conscious mind had to agree—if only a little.

Lily furrowed her brow in confusion, though, when she realized she’d never had the opportunity to stare at the back of Potter’s head before. Him sitting in front of her was _not_ something that happened. His sole purpose in class was to sit behind her and flick notes at the back of her head until she turned around to glare at him. He would then try and look innocent, but the whole act would be lost when his trademark smirk would make its way across his face. She would usually huff in response before spinning back around, but one day one of the notes fell into her bag and she’d found it later that night. There was a small heart written on the crumpled up paper. She started grabbing them then, and there was always something sweet written on the inside of those little pieces of paper. Now Lily grabbed them when she could—_subtly_ grabbed them, of course. There were still two such notes in a small box tucked away in her trunk, safely stored under her bed.

One note simply read, “I like your eyes when you’re angry,” with the word ‘angry’ underlined twice and a small smiley face with angry eyebrows in the corner. The other was a little longer, the longest that she’d ever found, and the existence of those words was proof to her that Potter had no idea that she snagged the notes sometimes. Lily had uncurled it so often in those first few days after finding it that she’d memorized it easily, but removing it from her pocket was a must. The ink had started to fade, and she’d had to repair the bottom corner carefully—oh so carefully—with Spellotape.

It said, in an untidy hand that Lily had learned to decipher some time ago, “When you dropped your favorite book in a puddle last month, you didn’t know that I was watching. You sat down right next to it, not caring that the mud was soaking into your robes. You hadn’t made any noise, even as you fumbled to catch it, or when you thought the pages were ruined beyond repair. After you had left it behind, I ran to grab it. I have never wanted to kiss you as badly as I did the day I set the repaired book in your favorite armchair and you found it. I _really_ love your smile, Lils.”

When she had read it for the first time, she had cried. She had never known how her book had ended up in the Gryffindor common room, looking the same as it had the day her grandmother had given it to her—right down to the tiny tear on page fifty-seven. It must have taken weeks to repair—and money that she didn’t have. The note made her feel fuzzy to think about. Her insides got mushy and she retreated into her own mind.

When she had read it for the first time, she had known that she’d liked Potter back. Someone who would do something that sweet, without demanding any compensation for it, deserved to be admired.

Everyone around her jumping up and moving at once startled her and wiped the dreamy smile off her face. With one look at the board, she was back on track with the real world. The instructions were listing the ingredients of a potion that she recognized, and she let out a tiny sigh of relief. Today they were brewing the Draught of Living Death, a potion she had already perfected in her advanced lessons with Slughorn. She snapped out some curt instructions to Severus before rising to grab ingredients from the class cupboard.

She could brew this potion in her sleep.

When Lily was brewing a potion, she worked methodically. Everything but her task seemed to fall away around her, and that was what made Lily the best potion maker in her year. _Well, one of the best,_ she reminded herself when Severus’s arm brushed hers. Having Severus as a potions partner for five years made them virtually the same person. They worked the same way, and required very little outside instruction when attempting new things. The only good thing about still being stuck with her ex-best friend as partner was that they were attuned to each other, and they rarely had to ask each other for things out loud. They had usually filled their silent potion making with idle conversation, but neither of them spoke now.

When Lily saw Severus reach for the stirring rod before she thought was appropriate she said, “No, wait!” and pushed his arm out of the way before he could pick up the instrument, ignoring his little jump as she did. Lily knew what was coming, for they always disagreed at one point when brewing this particular potion. The directions in their textbook said to use twelve Sopophorous beans, but Lily knew that you’d get a better consistency when you used thirteen. Severus seemed unable to accept this, and Lily believed he was just bitter that he didn’t come up with the modification himself.

Lily wasn’t surprised when he refused to add a thirteenth bean, and she also wasn’t surprised that it resorted to a screaming match in the middle of the class.

“Severus you _know_ that the thirteenth one helps!” Lily hissed.

“I do not!” he yelled back. “That one time could have just been a fluke and you know it. No one, not even me, can ever brew the same potion the _exact_ same way _twice!”_

“Oh for Godric’s sake, Sev,” Lily groaned. “Get off your damn high horse and listen to me for _once_ in your life. Add the thirteenth bean before we waste too much time arguing and the whole bloody potion goes down the drain!”

Her face was flushed and she was so mad at him that it hurt to breathe. She had never wanted to speak to him ever again, and all this yelling about potions had brought on memories of when they had done this all the time, but had always walked out of the room together. That wasn’t ever going to happen again, and she was furious at him for reminding her of the time when they were friends.

When Severus still wasn’t making any move to add another bean, Lily audibly growled, and reached across the table to grab the bean to crush herself. When she went to grab the knife out of his hand, he jerked his arm back at the last second and it cut a large slice across her palm. Lily jumped and let out a small yelp, more in surprise than pain. Adrenaline had been flooding her body for the last three minutes and the shock of what just happened stopped her from feeling any pain besides a slight pressure. She looked up to meet Severus’s eyes, and he looked just as shocked as she did.

The cut wasn’t that deep when Lily looked down to inspect it, but blood was dripping all over the floor. She squeezed her hand into a fist, but that hurt a little so she stopped.

“Merlin!” Hestia Jones squeaked from across the table. “Professor Slughorn, Lily is bleeding!”

Slughorn wobbled over quickly and exclaimed, “What happened, Ms. Evans?”

“We had a little… _accident_ with the Sopophorous bean,” Lily said, allowing Slughorn to examine her hand. “May I go to Madam Pomfrey, please?”

“Of course, of course,” her professor said. “Mr. Black or Mr. Potter can take you, they seem to be finished already.”

Potter immediately stood up and grabbed his bag. “I can do it, Professor,” he said.

Lily started shoving her things in her bag, but she wasn’t left handed and the task wasn’t moving as quickly as she’d hoped. All of a sudden, a larger pair of hands gently took her book from her and placed it in her bag. Potter also closed her potions kit and grabbed her notes, placing them in her bag as well. Before she could insist that she carry her own things, he slung the bag over her head and adjusted the strap. The ease of the gesture almost calmed her rage, but then she looked back up at Severus and saw the disgust in his eyes as he looked at James.

Later, she would claim that the blood loss made her lose her rational mind, but she was completely aware of the next thing that came out of her mouth. Her brief eye contact with Sirius across the room was enough for him to know she was about to say something rash, and he shook his head very quickly—even as he smiled in anticipation, never one to say no to a good telling off of Severus.

“My blood doesn’t look very much like mud now, does it, Snape?” she snarled quietly. “I bet that might be a bit of a shock for you, but before you wreck all the work I just put into that bloody potion, I’d pull your giant head out of your arse and add the thirteenth fucking bean.”

She leveled Severus with a deadly glare before she stalked towards the doorway with Potter on her heels.

:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Severus couldn’t seem to process what he’d just done. It was a natural instinct to pull his arm back when someone reached for him; he just _happened_ to be holding a knife this time, and he just _happened_ to cut Lily’s hand because she just _happened_ to be the one that was reaching for him. He switched between staring at the blood that was dripping onto his hand from the knife and Lily’s shocked expression.

He couldn’t believe that he’d just done that—that that had just _actually_ happened.

Everything seemed very loud. He watched as Professor Slughorn inspected her hand and gestured to Potter and Black. He didn’t recognize what that meant until _Potter_ was placing Lily’s things in her bag while she cradled her hand to her chest. He felt the anger rise unbidden as Potter gently placed the bag on Lily’s shoulder and adjusted her hair from under the strap. _What right did he have to touch her? What right did he have to that_ look _Lily was giving him?_

When Lily turned her blazing eyes back to him, he wished he didn’t have to hear what came out of her mouth next.

“My blood doesn’t look very much like mud now, does it, Snape?” she snarled—just loud enough for him, her, and Potter to hear. “I bet that might be a bit of a shock for you, but before you wreck all the work I just put into that bloody potion, I’d pull your giant head out of your arse and add the thirteenth fucking bean.”

He cringed.

She had never spoken to him like that before. Spoken to him like Potter and Black always did. It hurt more than he cared to admit. Severus avoided everyone’s eyes as he turned back to his potion. He grabbed a rag and slowly wiped the blood off his knife. His thoughts were jumbled, flipping between anger at himself and _rage_ at James Potter. He slowly reached for another Sopophorous bean and crushed it with the blade.

Snape crossed off the number twelve in his textbook and scribbled in the number thirteen instead.

:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Lily had spent the rest of the day in the library, meticulously writing her essays and steadfastly ignoring everyone in her life. She hadn’t said one word to Potter on the way to the hospital wing, and he had left her to her own devices after asking her once if she wanted to talk about it. The shake of her head had sent him on his way easy enough—leaving her with an understanding parting glance and a gentle squeeze of her arm.

Darkness had fallen now though, and it was time to find Remus for rounds. She always had a weird prefect schedule because Remus had to work around full moons, but Lily didn’t mind. The wacky schedule actually gave her more time for other things, even though they did the same amount of work as the other prefects. On the way back to the common room to collect Remus, Lily stopped at the end of the Charms corridor and squeezed the strap of her bag until her fist turned white. She didn’t know what was wrong, but her neck tickled like someone was watching her.

A quick look around yielded no other presence, so Lily spent the rest of her walk with her wand clutched in her hand. She had hoped her screaming match with Severus and the subsequent slicing of her hand was the thing that she’d been dreading. Apparently not, though, if her instincts had anything to say about it. Unbidden, her mind supplied her the image of the masked axe murderer from the horror film she’d watched over summer. On any other day, Lily would have laughed at the thought of an _axe_ murderer, of all things, running rampant in the corridors of a wizarding school, but today the thought only made her substantially more anxious.

She finally climbed through the portrait hole, and she spotted Remus immediately, lounging on the sofa in front of the fire. Alice and Frank were curled together in one of the small armchairs, and Remus seemed completely oblivious to their longing stares. They were too nice to tell Remus to bugger off so they could kiss, and Lily had an inkling that Alice’s desire to set a good example as Head Girl stopped her from saying to hell with Remus and just snogging in front of him.

Lily smiled as she walked up behind him. For someone who was so smart, Remus Lupin could be particularly dumb.

“Rounds, Remus,” Lily said, tapping his shoulder lightly in greeting. “Let’s allow the poor couple to kiss in peace.”

Remus’s face was priceless, and he jumped up so quickly he stumbled. “Awe Remus, you’re like a shy little kitten.” Alice smiled, leaning her head on her boyfriend's shoulder.

“I am not,” he mumbled, grabbing Lily’s elbow as he pulled her out of common room.

Lily liked Remus; he was the small voice of reason within his group of friends and rounds with him were something that she looked forward to. At first glance, he seemed to stand in complete contrast to the rest of the Marauders. He didn’t have Peter’s mousy, but calculating demeanor, or James’s penchant for mischief, and especially not Sirius’s outgoing personality. If you knew him though, you knew to look for the glimmer in his eyes that told you he’d just pulled off a prank. You would notice the carefully worded phrases that he used to draw his friends out of a mood. He was just Remus. He came with calm touches and a reassuring presence that held the Marauders together. Without him, the whole group would fall apart.

Remus was also surprisingly laid back and easy to talk to. Lily _always_ took his advice to heart, and relied on him for more than she’d like to think. He was more than pleasant company, and they passed their time on patrol with good natured teasing and conversation. Today, he was telling Lily more about the comment Potter had made when they’d ran into each other at the pub. The story involved a _very_ sleep-deprived Sirius, five-inch heels, and half a pink feather boa. Lily was laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes, and she had to wipe them away with her sleeve.

Their laughter continued until they were checking their final corridor.

The sight stopped Lily in her tracks. At the other end of the Charms corridor, a small girl was suspended in midair. Her arms were limp by her side, and her chin was resting against her chest. Lily had the sinking feeling that she was looking at a dead body, but as Remus and Lily jogged closer to her, she saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her robes were torn, hanging off one shoulder, and there were rust colored stains on the white oxford she wore.

_It was the first fucking day of classes!_ Lily thought. _How much can happen in the span of twelve hours?_

At least Lily now knew why she’d been agitated all day. And if this wasn’t the source of her nerves then Lily wasn’t ever coming out of her dorm again.

Despite the horrid sight before her, the most terrifying part of the scene was the sloppy words written on the wall underneath the girl, glistening scarily like blood in the torchlight. It read, ‘WE’RE RECRUITING’ and Lily refused to think about what that meant until the girl was safely tucked away with Madam Pomfrey. Lily was breathing heavily, and as she got a better look at the girl’s face, a burst of recognition flooded through her. Her name was still escaping her, but she knew that she’d helped her find her way to the Hufflepuff common room earlier in the day. Her small feet were dangling just above Remus’s head, and Lily was finally jolted back to her senses when he lifted a hand to grab ahold of her foot.

“Remus no!” she yelled, startling even herself.

“Lily?” Remus asked, talking slowly as she’d gone mad. “We’ve got to get her down. We’ve _got_ to get her to the hospital wing, Lily.”

“I know that, but there might be a jinx or a-a-a curse or something that’s attached to her,” Lily reasoned, her voice bordering on hysterical. “You could be hurt when you touch her!”

“Okay,” Remus said, catching onto what she was saying. “Okay, give me a second to think.”

As Lily watched Remus pace, something he did when he was agitated or to help him think, she chewed on her thumbnail and continuously shot glances up to the girl. She wished that she knew the girl’s name. She deserved to have her name known if she went through… all _this_ tonight. It felt like the longer Lily stood there, the bluer the girl’s lips got, but she reasoned that it was a mere trick of the light—it _had_ to be a trick of the light. When Remus pulled his wand from his pocket not thirty seconds later and strode towards the girl she thought she was about to see some big show.

_“Specialis Revelio,”_ he said, rapping his wand sharply. Nothing happened. “Well… there’s no charms or hexes surrounding her, but I’m not sure how far that spell extends. I haven’t been able to research the concept and theory as much I would’ve liked, so I don’t know if it covers any darker magic or if it’s strictly the general area of magic. There is–”

“Remus!” Lily snapped. “Can we talk about that later? What are we supposed to do if it doesn’t cover all the bases and there’s darker magic at work and it curses us anyway?”

“Well,” Remus said. “What we _should_ do is get a teacher and wait for them to cast the more complex spell, but–”

“Remus we can’t wait that long, what if–”

“_But,”_ Remus stressed. “I’m not a Marauder just by association. Also, I don’t believe there’s anything else surrounding her. I can’t… um I can’t _sense_ anything, and I don’t think that anyone would want to risk harming the professors or students that found her.”

“Why?” Lily asked, watching nervously as he reached up to touch the girl.

“Because,” Remus said, “there was no way to know that it would’ve been a Muggleborn prefect and a Werewolf half-blood that found her.” As he came in contact with the girl’s uniformed black shoe, whatever was holding her snapped and she fell, dead-weighted, into Remus’s waiting arms. He sighed as he continued, “I’d imagine that they’d want to avoid harming a Pureblood.”

Finally everything clicked into place and Lily felt light-headed. Someone attacked this girl just because of her parentage. Someone attacked this girl because she couldn’t defend herself. She was a _first-year_ for God’s sake! She did nothing to deserve being ridiculed, and she _definitely_ didn’t do anything to deserve being strung up in the rafters with open wounds. More pieces of the puzzle were falling into place in Lily’s mind, and she realized that the girl was one of two new Muggleborns who were sorted yesterday evening.

“She’s got a weak pulse, and her skin’s as cold as ice,” Remus said, pressing the back of his hand to her check as he held her close to his chest. “I’ll take her directly to Madam Pomfrey, and you can go get McGonagall or Dumbledore and get them to the infirmary as quick as you can.”

Lily continued to stare at the way the girl had curled, subconsciously, into Remus’s chest as if she recognized he was a safe haven. “Lily!” he yelled. “Go and get McGonagall or Dumbledore and meet me in the Hospital Wing!”

She jumped. “O-of course,” she stammered. “Sorry, I’m going.” Lily took off in the direction opposite of Remus, running faster than she had in a long time and trying to keep her tears at bay.

Lily, being a Muggleborn herself, tried to keep tabs on all the younger Muggleborns to help them as best she could with the transition from Muggle to magical. She knew how difficult it could be, and she tried to show them that they could do anything they set their minds to despite the roadblocks they’d likely face. Lily also knew the persecution of Muggleborns had become more of a fixture in today’s society than it was when she was a first year, but if this is what happens to a first-year girl on the first official day of term… what was it going to be like for her after she graduates?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my favorite scenes that i've written for this fic is the lily x severus scene in the middle of this chapter. i hate snape with a passion, but it's super interesting to look into his mind when he's younger. also, i really like to think that lily had a hand in the half-blood prince's book that harry gets later on- makes me soft
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading. i love all of you, and your comments, kudos, and attention. you've succeeded in making happy brain chemicals, but a bitch is depressed jskdjsk


	7. Athletics and Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Quidditch try-outs, and Lily and her friends unwind with some Firewhiskey—like they're 30, and not 16.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more lighthearted than the last chapter, so please enjoy! :))

_“Why do we feel it’s necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable? That’s when you know you’ve found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.” – Pulp Fiction_

Remus Lupin was, quite possibly, one of the most well-versed students in all of Hogwarts history for finding secret passageways. He could have written it off as a trait that he acquired simply because of his nighttime wanderings with the Marauders, but there was no way to get around the obvious fact that he knew of them because of his introverted need to be out of the public eye—as it was, he’d found most of the secret passages in Hogwarts while on his own. No matter, it was because of this ingrained knowledge that he was able to reach the hospital wing in less than four minutes.

It was in those four minutes that the small girl in his arms grew even colder, her lips turned even bluer, and her breathing—impossibly—got even shallower. Remus didn’t know if it was the wolf in him or just sheer human instinct, but he could feel the dark magic radiating off of her in abundance. He had to keep squeezing his eyes shut to clear his vision, worried that the distraction of that magic would cause him to trip and hurt her even more. What worried him the most, however, was the sheer _amount _of residual magic that clung to her. It begged the question of what exactly she went through when it was in its full capacity.

It sent a chill down his spine.

Remus, usually the one Marauder who possessed a _small _semblance of decorum, burst through the double doors to the infirmary and started yelling for the healer. He and Madam Pomfrey have had a… _special_ relationship since Remus’s first week at Hogwarts—considering they meet up at least once a month so he can change into a moon-loving monster. (No big deal.) It just so happens, their close relationship means that he has been granted the privilege to call her by her first name—a technique she’d likely used to get him to open up with her about his pains and establish a healthy rapport—even if she rarely calls him anything other than ‘Mr. Lupin’.

“Poppy!” he yelled, knowing he had to rouse her from a slumber, albeit a light one, in the next room over. “Madam Pomfrey! I need your help in here!”

There was a loud bang, and a quick shuffling of feet, before a door clanged open and Poppy Pomfrey, clad in a deep red dressing gown and matching house slippers, emerged from her quarters. The Hogwarts matron was a short and sturdy woman with a kind smile but a stern attitude. She had piercing blue eyes that could always tell when you were lying and blond hair that she usually had pulled up under her cap. She had that concerned motherly air about her, but sometimes that ‘motherly air’ turned into something way more intense than a maternal concern. The good thing was that she always meant well, and she was a sight to be seen when wielding a wand.

“Mr. Lupin!” she gasped, catching sight of the limp girl in his arms. She strode purposefully to the bed at the end of the hall, and gestured for Remus to follow and place the unconscious first-year on the bed. “What _happened?”_

“I’ve no idea,” he admitted, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watched her run preliminary diagnostic spells. “Lily Evans and I were finishing our evening rounds when we found her hanging in the Charms corridor, unconscious. It was a right sight, Poppy.”

“Well thank goodness you found her when you did, Mr. Lupin,” she said. The matron stilled in her spell work and touched the girl’s pale cheek with the back of her hand. “Was she this cold when you first found her?”

“Yes,” Remus replied immediately. “It took us a few minutes to make sure we could get her down safely, but her lips were blue before we even began _attempting_ to do that. When she was finally released from whatever spell was holding her, I came straight here. We decided that Lily should send for Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster. So, uh—that’s where Lily is,” he finished lamely.

“Good, that’ll save me some time,” Poppy mumbled. “It seems that she’s been through a great ordeal tonight, Mr. Lupin. I would like to be able to give her my full attention.”

“O-of course,” Remus stammered. Recognizing her ‘give-me-space’ tone, he backed away from the bed to give the healer room to work. It was at least ten minutes before Professor McGonagall made it into the Hospital Wing with Lily trailing her at a more subdued pace. McGonagall was wearing a faded green dressing gown with a matching quilted cap, covering the black bob of hair at the base of her skull. Short tendrils had escaped and were framing her face, giving her a slightly haggard and weary look.

She skidded to a halt at the foot of the girl’s bed, who was now slumbering fitfully under the white blankets, and clutched at her heart. “Good Heavens,” she exclaimed. “Is she all right? What happened? Miss Evans explained it simply, that you found her in the corridor and those-those words that were written underneath her, but… _What happened,_ Poppy?”

“She’s going to live, Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey said, matter of fact in her assessment. “She has sustained wounds to the chest and abdomen, and her oxygen supply was depleted from a cracked skull. I’ve healed the wounds and given her a blood-replenishing potion, but I need to keep her here for observation to watch for possible seizures and neuropraxia. And sadly, I might need to send her to St. Mungo’s to have a specialist look over her.”

“Why those specific things?” Lily asked, piping up from behind McGonagall. Remus already knew though, and he feared the moment that Madam Pomfrey would confirm his train of thought.

He watched Madam Pomfrey glance at McGonagall before answering his question. “Seizures are a side effect of the Brain Hypoxia—oxygen deprivation, that is—while the neuropraxia is a common remnant of–”

“The Cruciatus Curse,” McGonagall finished.

.:..:.

Remus held Lily’s hand as they walked back to the common room and through the portrait hole. The rest of the Marauders were sitting around the dying fire, but all the other students had already gone up to bed. Lily, who surprisingly held fast to Remus’s hand, led him to his friends and pulled him down next to her on the squishy couch.

“Uh, is everything okay?” Sirius asked, eyeing them suspiciously. Remus expected Lily to be the one to answer, but when she just sighed and dropped her head to his shoulder, he cleared his throat.

“Rough day,” he said simply. James, the most curious out of all of them, widened his eyes and shook his head expectantly. Remus continued, “We found a first-year unconscious in the Charms corridor. Turns out she’d been tortured pretty badly.”

“By who?” Peter squeaked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees.

“We don’t know, but she was a…” Remus looked down at Lily, who now had her eyes closed, before continuing. “She was a Muggleborn, so it’s not hard to guess the attacker’s intentions or their affiliations.”

Sirius gave a low whistle and leaned back, his hand brushing Remus’s as he ran the appendage down his own thigh. Remus tried not to zero in on the contact and stared determinedly into the fire.

They drifted into silence, and Remus watched James and Peter finish their chess game. Lily’s breathing had evened out next to him, and he knew that she’d fallen asleep without even having to look down at her. Remus shifted so he could lay his arm around her shoulders, and he pulled her closer to his side. She shifted with him, her breathing never changing, and curled one leg up to her body, digging her face into the curve of his neck.

He caught James’s eye as she did this, worried that he would look too much into it, but his friend just looked concerned.

“Is she okay?” James whispered, nervously biting his lip.

Remus went to shrug, but stopped himself so he wouldn’t wake Lily, and just nodded his head slightly. “I think she’s just got a lot on her mind,” Remus said quietly. “And then—Godric, James they wrote, ‘We’re recruiting’ underneath the girls body. I’m worried this isn’t going to be an isolated incident.”

Sirius let out another low whistle, and leaned forward to look at Lily. Remus noticed the pinch between Sirius’s eyebrows a second before he wiped his face carefully blank and leaned back.

The silence between the four friends continued, which was odd because they were usually anything _but _silent. The clock above the mantle chimed once and Remus looked up in surprise, not realizing that it was so late. He went to wake Lily so she could get some sleep in her own bed, but James stopped him.

“Don’t wake her,” he said. “Just put that charm on me, and I’ll take her up.”

Remus shook his head, hating that he had been the one to figure out how to circumvent the spell on the girls’ staircase. James and Sirius had both laughed at him when he’d said that it was ‘improper’, but in all honesty, Remus was more worried about what Lily and Ailana might do to him if they found out about it. Alice, even, who as Head Girl was duty bound to report them. Remus caved though, and James stepped up to the couch, taking off his robes and rolling up his sleeves as he went. He bent to grab Lily, one arm behind her back and another under her knees, and pulled her almost effortlessly into his chest.

Lily made a small noise of discontent at being jostled, but James made a soothing sound and adjusted his hold on her back. Lily, impossibly, didn’t wake and she actually curled into James even more, and Remus saw her arms tighten around his neck. Remus tapped his wand on both of James’s shoulders and muttered the charm under his breath, allowing James to walk past him towards the girl’s staircase and out of sight.

.:..:.

The next morning at breakfast, Lily would wonder out loud to her friends about how she’d gotten up to her room last night, while James busied himself with buttering his toast. Remus was the one to assure Lily that he’d watched her walk up the stairs himself, and she had just laughed and said she must’ve been so tired she’d forgotten.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

The next week and a half of classes passed fairly quickly for Lily, and she already had more than enough homework to last her ten lifetimes. The beginning of her first N.E.W.T year wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. It was _worse_. Exponentially so. The essays kept getting longer and longer, and the subject material harder and harder. The free periods she was looking forward to were destined to be filled with rushes to the library between classes, and quick nips up to the dormitory to catch up on lost sleep. One evening, Lily even caught sight of Sirius in the library. (She reasoned that Remus had to drag him there against his will, and by the scruff of his neck, but her point still stands.)

Lily assumed, or rather she’d hoped, that the workload would slow down to a steadier pace after the teachers’ initial frenzy to ‘jump-right-in’ had passed. All Lily knew, was that if this is what she had to look forward to all year, she wasn’t going to survive it with her emotional well being intact.

But this weekend was different than the previous one because Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts were scheduled for this afternoon. Sirius had managed to rope Lily and her friends into coming to watch; so, after breakfast, Emmeline, Mary and Lily made their way down to the Quidditch pitch in the drizzly weather that only the end of September could bring.

Her hands were already frozen.

Huddled between her friends in the stands, Lily let out an encouraging yell as Ailana, Marlene, and Sirius took to the skies. They were among a group of about twenty other people on brooms who were all circling the stadium, their boisterous voices drifting up to where Lily was seated. As Lily watched the prospects complete their warm up laps, her mind wandered, taking her to places she had tried desperately to forget.

She had learned that the girl who was attacked in the Charms corridor was named Gemma. Gemma had been transferred to St. Mungo’s Hospital after a week in Madam Pomfrey’s care to receive advanced treatment for the lasting effects of her attack. Before she’d been sent away, Lily had visited her everyday, and had helped her stay on track with her schoolwork—even if she would be gone for God knows how long.

There haven’t been any attacks since then, but Lily couldn’t yet bring herself to let out her breath. All day, her shoulders were taught with tension, and all night she dreamed a variation of “I’m next”, or of “Mary’s next”, and even of “Emmeline is next”. To put it bluntly, Lily was freaked and her attitude was rubbing off on her friends. Marlene had started waiting for Lily every morning, even if Lily was being a pain in the ass and they ended up missing breakfast. And Mary’s desk had turned into the picture of squeaky-clean and any clothes left on the floor were known to make her freak out.

A loud whistle rang out around the stadium and Potter made his way onto the field, quickly gathering the gaze of his candidates. For all of Potter’s flaws, he knew how to command attention. He had this uncanny ability of making himself heard, even when no one wanted to listen. In no time, he had the Quidditch hopefuls split up into two teams while he floated around watching them. Periodically, Potter sent players off of the pitch and called new ones on.

Lily knew very little about the logistics of Quidditch or the technical terms for _anything_, but even so, she knew how to spot a good player when she saw one. It came as no surprise to her when the returning team had earned their spots back. She _was_ surprised, however, by how good Sirius was in an actual competitive setting. After all, she’d only ever seen him play in pickup games, where nothing really mattered, and free-for-alls where players spent most of the time joking around with the other team.

As Potter moved the players on to drills, Lily watched as Sirius hit the bludgers perfectly through the hoops at the other end of the field as James called them off by number. He managed to maintain both bludgers, hitting them in perfect synchronization. His hair was flying, coming out of its restraining band, but he didn’t seem to notice. Sirius had the biggest grin plastered on his face when he eventually landed back on the ground. He seemed very confident that he’d gotten the other beaters spot based off of the flippant way that he tossed his bat into the air, and casual grace he held as he slumped to the grass.

An hour later, the team was decided. Tobias Red, a burley seventh year, regained his spot as keeper, while Ailana and Marlene got back their spots as a beater and chaser respectively. The new recruits were somewhat surprising. One was a fourth year named Anthony Chase, who Lily had dismissed the minute he’d stepped onto the field. When he had first shown up, he had lumbered onto the field and dropped his broomstick twice; but when he took to the skies, he’d outstripped every player there, even intercepting one of Marlene’s bullet passes. He was a good find. The second player was a small third year by the name of Elizabeth Goldstein. She had easily out-played all the more experienced seekers, and sealed her spot thirty minutes after the snitch had been released.

Lily jostled Emmeline when she moved to stand up, snapping her friend out of her trance. The other girl stretched slowly, looking almost catlike, before mumbling under her breath, “That was a bloody waste of time.”

“Oh, shush up,” Mary said, shoving Emmeline lightly in the shoulder. “You love Quidditch.”

“Correction,” Lily interrupted. “She loves Quidditch _games_.”

Nodding, Emmeline grabbed her things and was the first one to make her way down the stands. She called over her shoulder, “At least in real Quidditch games, there’s _some _kind of action, and I don’t have to watch the same monotonous drill ten different times.”

“We’re being _supportive_, Em,” Lily said, grinning slightly. “And Sirius asked us to come, so we’re being good friends. Not to mention the fact that Ailana and Marlene were trying out again, too. Stop whining.”

“I’m not _whining._” Emmeline shrugged. “I’m just expressing my mild discontent.”

Shaking her head, Lily followed her friends down the bleachers.

.:..:.

It was much later in the evening when Lily finally managed to warm her fingers up, and she did so through a very much-needed bottle of Ogden’s finest. Lily was perched on her bed, her hair a complete mess in the drunken bun she’d attempted to put it into to, and her white school shirt was draped around her shoulders. Lily knew—from the five times she’s gotten drunk in her life—that she got hot when she was intoxicated; so, over the course of the night, her clothes had steadily found their way to the floor, and _not _on her body where they were meant to be.

It was midnight and everything was slightly blurry.

_Slightly._

Emmeline, Mary, Ailana, Alice, and Marlene were spread around the dorm, in varying states of drunkenness and tiredness. Ailana was lying so the top half of her body was hanging off the side of her four-poster, her face flushed and her eyes closed—lily didn’t understand how the position wasn’t making her puke. Alice—who had finally graced them with her presence outside of the Head dorms—and Marlene were facing each other on the floor, sitting Indian-style and telling sphinx riddles in an attempt to outwit the other. Mary was the only one still coherent; she was always the one who paced herself, aware of the fact that she’s incapable of holding her Firewhiskey.

Lily’s smile slid off her face as her attention focused in on Mary. The other girl looked contemplative. She was twirling her hair, and her eyes were darting around. Lily knew for a fact that she wasn’t _that_ drunk, not drunk enough to be seeing things that is, so Lily piped up.

“What’s wrong, Mary?” Lily asked.

“Hmm?” Mary looked up and knotted her eyebrows. “Oh, nothing’s wrong.”

Ailana lurched herself back up onto her bed and narrowed her eyes at her friend. “_Something’s_ wrong.”

Marlene and Alice were paying attention now, too, and they’d already moved to sit next to Mary on her bed. Lily decided against moving; she didn’t want to risk the head-rush and inevitable _stumble _that would make her friends tease her_. _When Mary grabbed the neck of the Firewhiskey bottle though, Lily knew she was getting ready to spill whatever she was thinking.

“I have a _crush_,” she groaned, taking a swig of the alcohol and passing it off to the nearest hand as soon as she swallowed. “On a _very _cute boy.”

Ailana grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “And who might this lucky fellow be?”

“Simon Kass,” Mary stated, determinedly ignoring the blush on her cheeks.

“That smarmy Ravenclaw?” Emmeline wrinkled her nose.

“He’s not _smarmy!”_ Mary defended. “He’s sweet, and he dresses nice, and he seems really lovely. You’re not being very _supportive_, are you Emmeline? I’m gonna have to give you a _two_ on the friend scale because that wasn’t _helpful!”_

“She’ll do better next time, _won’t_ you Emmeline?” Alice asked. Em just wrinkled her nose when she was addressed, again, by her full name, but nodded in the end.

“He’s in my year, isn’t he? A seventh year?” Alice wondered.

This caused Mary to exclaim, rather loudly, “Exactly!”

Lily jumped at her volume. “What does ‘_exactly_’ mean in th-th-this context?” Lily managed to get out.

“It means that I have absolutely _no _chance with him. He’s _tall_ and he’s _smart_ and he has the most _perfect_ hair,” Mary sighed. “And I’m just Mary.”

“Just Mary?” Ailana asked, her eyes widening. “What in Godric’s name is wrong with being _just Mary?_ You’re _great,_ Mary! Everything about you is amazing! Why are you being down on yourself?”

“Because apparently it’s my self-fucking-pity night,” groaned Mary, flopping back onto her bed. “And see, Em. Ailana gets a solid eight. That was being a good friend.”

“Only an eight! Your scale is fucked up, Mary, and you should _fix_ it!” Ailana complained.

Mary continued as if Alina had never spoken. “Plus, I haven’t been able to look nice _once_ this past week—not even _one time._ And you lot know that I can’t _feel_ nice if I don’t _look_ nice.”

_“Hogwash!”_ Emmeline yelled, earning her an amused look from both Alice and Lily.

Mary grabbed the neck of the Firewhiskey bottle and pulled it from Emmeline’s grip. “It doesn’t even matter right now. You guys are too drunk to give me decent advice anyways.”

“Oh, I can guarantee you that I give the best advice when I’m drunk,” Ailana rebutted.

“That’s true,” Lily agreed. “It makes her lose her filter.”

“What filter?” Marlene asked, scrunching up her nose.

A crease appeared between Lily’s eyebrows and a hitch in her breath betrayed her amusement. “Oh, well, I guess I was talking about myself. _Oops._”

“Lightweight,” murmured Alice.

Lily was actually well aware of the fact that she _wasn’t_ a lightweight. Her friends didn’t need to know that she’d started drinking an hour before they had joined her. Lily laughed out loud and garnered startled looks from everyone but Mary, who was still lying on her back on the bed.

“Okay, Mary,” Ailana said. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Step One: sit up on the bed because I feel like you’re not going to get the full effect of my words when you’re layin’ down.”

Mary muttered a quiet, “Shove off,” but she sat up anyways.

“‘Kay, first off, you’re going ta’ actually _talk_ to him—like _in real life,_” Ailana said.

Mary blushed. “How do you know that I haven’t spoken to him?”

Everyone just looked at her until Mary rolled her eyes, “And what in the world would I say to him? Have you even met me _at all?”_

“All you have to do is say _hi_,” Lily said. “Just because he’s a boy doesn’t mean he’s a completely different enti-en-entity.”

“I _know_ this,” Mary scoffed. “But he’s a _cute _boy! I can talk to bloody Peter Pettigrew just fine!”

“Ouch,” Alice laughed. “What’ve you got against poor-ol’ Peter?”

“I haven’t a thing against Peter,” Mary denied. “He’s just easy to talk to, that’s all I was saying.”

“Maybe you should date Peter then,” Marlene murmured, bringing the bottle to her lips.

Mary groaned and resumed her prone position on the bed. “Thanks for all your wondrous advice, really.”

“It’s late anyways,” Marlene sighed. “We should get to bed so McGonagall doesn’t skin us when we sleep through her class tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, what in the world were we thinking, drinking on a school night,” Emmeline groaned as she stood up and started walking to her bed.

“Lily started it!” Ailana accused. “She was already drinking when I got up here.”

“_And_ time for bed,” Lily said, waving her wand and extinguishing the lights.

As Lily lay in the darkness, listening to the wind beating against the shutters and her friend’s beds creaking as they settled themselves, she thought about Mary. Lily hated that she understood exactly what Mary was thinking. Lily usually hid her anxiousness behind well-placed insults and sharp jabs to their conversations. She doesn’t think she’s ever actually just said ‘hi’ to a cute boy before.

Lily had just shucked off her shirt when Ailana spoke: “Just talk to him like you talk to us, Mary. Ask him about Quidditch, about what he thinks of Professor Slughorn. Hell, ask him about the bloody weather. All you’ve got to do is say hi, love.”

It was because she was _slightly _tipsy that Lily was okay falling asleep like this, falling asleep thinking of saying hi to a boy with messy hair and square spectacles.

.:..:.

The next morning, Lily sat at the breakfast table, her brain punishing her body by pounding itself _relentlessly_ against the inside of her skull. She _may_ have had one too many drinks last night, and she _may_ be slightly regretting it. At the moment, everything seemed to be too loud and too bright.

She buried her face in her hands.

Ailana slumped into the seat next to her and made a _tsk-_ing noise of mocking disapproval. Lily knew that Ailana, miraculously, always avoided hangovers the next morning (or she was just remarkably better at hiding them and had an ironclad will to go on as if everything was normal just to spite everyone). Lily didn’t much care for her less than ideal decision being rubbed in her face. Okay, so she was also _slightly_ cranky.

“My, my,” Ailana said, pouring two cups of coffee. “You do look rather worse for wear, Lil.”

“Screw you,” Lily replied, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee her friend offered.

“Ah, you know I’m only teasing,” Ailana chuckled. “I’m not feeling my best right now either. I was actually thinking about skiving off lessons, but—well would you look at that…”

Lily picked her head up and followed Ailana’s line of sight. Walking together into the Great Hall was Mary and Simon Kass. It seemed that Mary had worked up the courage to talk to him. Lily watched as Mary smiled and lightly touched her fingers to Simon’s arm, he flushed slightly when he looked down at her hand and he wiped his brow before straightening up. Lily was too far away to hear what they were saying, but Mary was smiling serenely when she finally made her way towards where they were sitting.

Lily asked, “How did it go?” at the same time that Ailana smirked and asked, “You snogging him after Transfiguration, or no?”

Mary colored a deep red as she sat down across from them and attempted to kick Ailana under the table. She caught Lily instead, and Lily inhaled a sharp breath. _Honestly, it was only seven in the morning,_ Lily thought while she rubbed away the ache now forming in her shin. Mary didn’t seem to notice though as she jumped to defend herself.

“You’re so crude, Ailana!” Mary laughed. “I barely even know the guy; we were just _talking._”

“Was it as bad as you thought it would be?” Lily asked.

Mary looked down at her clasped hands and her dark hair fell into her eyes. “No… it-it wasn’t, it was actually pretty great.”

“I’m happy for you, babe,” Ailana said, patting Mary’s hands before letting the silence wash over them.

Five minutes passed before the owls flew in through the open windows. As Lily was (_again_) admiring the display, she spotted Aurelian and noticed that he had a letter attached to his leg. She watched as he circled his way down towards her, and she gave him a piece of her bacon when he finally landed. He cooed and nuzzled her hand before taking to the skies again.

As Lily turned the letter over in her hands, she cocked her head in confusion.

“What is it?” Alice asked, who had just walked up and taken a seat next to Mary.

“I think it’s from Petunia,” Lily said, slicing the letter open with her finger and beginning to read.

_Lily,_

_Mum and Dad are well, and they send their regards. Dad told me to ask you whether you’ve taken his advice yet or if you’re ‘slacking.’ His words not mine. You should write them soon, they’ve gotten antsy. Apparently, you usually write more often._

_Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I’ve written you considering we haven’t had a decent conversation in months… <strike>sometimes I wish we could speak without yelling, but then I remember why we yell.</strike>_

_Long story short, I’m getting married._

_Vernon asked me last weekend._

_And if you haven’t put it together yet, he’s who I’ve been sneaking off to see all summer. I didn’t want anyone else involved because I didn’t want our family’s weirdness to wear off on him and send him packing. Vernon is a very nice man, with a well-to-do job in the city. He treats me well, and he makes me happy, so don’t give him too much grief when you eventually meet him._

_More on the wedding: Mum has already gone into a complete frenzy about planning. I’m glad she’s so supportive and willing to help me organize it. We’ve picked a date for this coming July, and I’m to ask you to be a bridesmaid. Victoria’s my maid of honor and Vernon’s sister, Marge, will be another bridesmaid, along with Yvonne. (You remember me talking of her? Yvonne was the first friend I made after we moved to Cokeworth, and we go to University together now—she’s my dorm mate, actually. You’ve never met her, but she’s good people.) Anyway, there’s no one else I can reasonably ask, and Mum told me that you need at least four people by your side, so here’s me asking you. I need another bridesmaid and I would <strike>love</strike> like for you to fill the spot._

_We’re dress shopping during your Christmas break because Mum says you have to be there. We haven’t decided colors yet, but I like pink. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but Mum’s trying to argue with me because she says that pink would look horrible with your hair, but I don’t think it will. In all honesty, I think that she just wants me to do blue like she did. (Be prepared for pink.)_

_Write Mum and Dad._

_Petunia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. i originally wrote this chapter when i was seventeen and drinking in a boarding school was the epitome of _luxury._ i am now twenty and i've sadly never gotten drunk in a boarding school, but at least i know now how unrealistic it was for them to be doing it jskdjs. but i don't care, i'm keeping it in the chapter and they're gonna be drunk teenagers and it'll be fine.
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading. i love y'all and i love all the love that you give me. till next time <3


	8. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gang celebrates halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild tw for homophobic themes. nothing major, but if you want more info, just let me know!
> 
> also this is a little wordy in the beginning as i do my best to introduce Ailana's perspective :)

_“And in the end, we were all just humans… drunk on the idea that love, and only love, could heal our brokenness.” – _F. Scott Fitzgerald,_ The Great Gatsby_

It was the last lesson of the day, and Ailana was so ready to be done with classes that she couldn’t seem to control the erratic bouncing of her leg. The annoyed looks that she was garnering from her classmates only made her want to continue with it, creaking of her chair be damned. No one else seemed to understand or share her love for this holiday. Halloween was her absolute _favorite_ holiday to celebrate. For one night out of the year, she got to dress up as someone that she wasn’t.

Ailana happened to like the person that she was, but the appeal of a costume was alluring. A lot of the people around her had different ideas about who she should be, holding their own qualms about what they thought she was actually like. Everyone was so _one-dimensional_. There was always a nice square box that people wanted to squeeze her into—a box that was _way_ too small for her.

She was aware that millions of people had worse problems than her, yet even that concept seemed to fail at making her issues seem small. The wizarding world in Britain, she had learned, was a lot different than that of Spain. She was old enough when she’d left Spain that she’d felt the loss of her country keenly. The first few months in their new home was tough for Ailana. When her parents had decided to make the move and finally settle down in England, they also decided to raise her in a household that, while still reflecting her heritage, attempted to integrate her into her new society. The differences between the two cultures became more noticeable the longer she lived in England.

There were still the universal issues, and the universal arse-holes that seemed to exist in every nook and crevice of the world, but the seemingly inconsequential matters were on an entirely different level. The Spanish that they’d spoken regularly prior to their move had started to diminish, only used within the four walls of their home. The easy trip down to the market on her bike was replaced by a noisy bus ride, and her mother had stopped letting her go out on her own. Ailana still tells her parents, every chance that she gets, that she’s going to move back to the Spanish countryside as soon as she graduates from Hogwarts.

Ailana’s mother and father were who anyone would describe as ‘free-spirits.’ They never swayed in their convictions and they absolutely refused to stand by in the face of oppression. It’s fitting that her parents met at a relief camp in Borneo, Indonesia after a massive tsunami struck the country. Not knowing that they had both attended Hogwarts, (albeit they were in different years, so some credit was due) they struck up clumsy conversations and stilted small talk. They’d gotten married a year later and had Ailana’s older sister, Maria, a year after that.

Ailana liked to think that she took after her mother. Lola Fernández was a strong woman. She spent her youth working as a healer in third world countries with her aunt, using her magical abilities to heal the Muggles in underdeveloped areas. Her mother was actually a faceless legend in the Muggle culture—the mysterious woman that healed the wounded in the dead of night. Her presence was usually chalked up to painful hallucinations, or the final face the poor souls would have seen if they had passed on, but Ailana thought it nothing short of amazing that her mother would be remembered for something so extraordinary, even if the true identity of the woman behind the legend was never to be revealed.

Though her mother was nothing short of remarkable, Ailana would not complain if she took after her father. Her father, Alejandro, marched with civil rights leaders in all parts of the world, carting around Ailana and her siblings in strollers in order to participate. Even today he continued to donate to charities, and he helps out the less fortunate as best he can in the small town they currently live in.

Ailana’s love for her parents grew even more when they didn’t so much as bat an eye when she brought home a girl named Ellie and introduced her as her girlfriend. They never wrote off anything about her, or dismissed her romantic interests as merely a ‘phase’ that she was going through. She had dealt with her fair share of rather horrible comments from the elitists at school that she was _beyond_ grateful she didn’t have to face the same at home.

The wizarding world as a whole was accepting of people like Ailana; there were just the fanatics that were obsessed with bloodlines that saw her as selfish. To some, if she wasn’t going to produce magical heirs, then her blood and magical ability were wasted.

Most of the time, those types of people liked to ignore her sexuality all together, describing it as a ‘_problem_’ that they didn’t want to talk about. A _taboo._

People were scared of the things that they didn’t want to understand, even if, really, the whole thing was quite simple.

Ailana jumped when Emmeline placed a hand on her thigh, stilling the rapid movement of her leg. Shooting her friend a sympathetic smile, Ailana sat up straighter in her seat and chanced another glance at the clock.

She sighed and leaned towards her friend, ignoring the drone of Professor Binns’ voice. “You’re taking good notes, right?’ she asked.

“Of course I’m not, but Remus is,” Emmeline whispered back, tilting her head towards the boy sitting in front of them, but not looking up from her doodling.

Nodding and resuming her slouched position in the hard-backed chair, Ailana decided a nap was in order.

Twenty minutes later, she was bouncing down the corridor, having left all her friends behind in History of Magic, and she was headed to the Owlery. A letter to her older sister was clutched in her hand, and she was so focused on getting back to the common room before dinner that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until she was pulled sideways into an empty classroom.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed, fumbling to catch herself on a desk. She looked up sharply, trying to orient herself, and got even more confused when Ami Shafiq was standing in front of her, arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“What do you want, Ami?” Ailana asked. Her voice was a little shaky, though she was slightly relieved that it was only Ami, and not someone with more nefarious motives.

Ami continued to avoid looking at Ailana. This wasn’t on the agenda for today and having her plans interrupted by an attention loving gossip was _ruining_ her good mood.

“Amira!” Ailana hissed. “_What_ do you _want?_ You’re not exactly in my good graces anymore, so if you’re not going to say what’s on your mind then get the _hell_ out of the way so I can leave. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Just give me a _second!”_ Ami pleaded, an edge to her voice. “Merlin, it’s like you think you’re the only one in the world with problems!”

Ailana snorted. “You’re the one that’s _giving_ me all of my current problems! I don’t want to hear any complaints from you—ever. And you lost the right to my patience a _long_ time ago, Ami. Don’t pretend otherwise, it helps no one—especially not us.”

Ami sat down heavily in the chair by the door, sighing loudly and covering her face with her hands. Ailana’s first instinct was to go to her with comforting words and soft touches, but she forced herself to stay where she was. Forced herself to _remember._

“I’m sorry about the rumor yesterday,” Ami whispered, not removing her face from her hands. “It was a little harsh, even for me.”

Ailana leaned back against a desk. “An apology from _the_ Amira Shafiq? I’m shocked. I never thought you’d lower yourself to apologize to a person like me. I don’t care for your acknowledgment. So if that’s all you’ve dragged me in here to say, then I think I’ll be going now.”

She was reaching for the door handle when Ami’s hand closed around her wrist. Ailana froze, her mind telling her to do several different things at once.

“Can you just sit here with me? Just for a few minutes?” Ami whispered. “You’re the only one that understands.”

Just like that, she knew that she couldn’t be here. Not just didn’t _want_ to be here, but she physically could no longer stay in the room.

“I stopped understanding a long time ago, Amira,” Ailana whispered before wrenching open the door.

.:..:.

When Ailana walked into the Great Hall later that evening, the interaction from earlier was firmly locked away in the back of her mind. Maybe she’d take it out later and analyze it, but this was her favorite holiday and she refused to let anything ruin that. So she took a deep breath and started walking towards the Gryffindor table, admiring the traditional Halloween decor that adorned the hall on her way.

Something was different, she noticed, as she walked towards the Gryffindor table. Ailana then stopped dead and she positively _beamed_ when she figured it out. It had taken her longer than she’d like to admit for her to realize that it was the usual hallows eve bats flying overhead, and that their odd flight patterns were weirdly synchronized. The bats were actually spelling words. _Swear_ words. As she watched a swooping cluster of them spell out the word _‘bastard’_ above the Slytherin table, she covered her mouth with her hand, trying in vain to conceal her laughter.

More words like _‘toerag’_ and _‘slag,’_ and the inevitable _‘wanker’_ curled their way below the enchanted ceiling, sometimes singling out students or swarming a table. As she sat down across from Remus, Ailana noticed that the bats avoided the teacher’s table. She commended the slight intelligence of the Marauders.

That’s who had to be behind it, anyway. No one else had the brainpower, the magical capabilities, or the _guts_ to pull it off. When she smirked up at Remus, he confirmed her thoughts with a raise of an eyebrow and a sideways glance at Sirius. Shaking her head, Ailana caught the tail end of Emmeline’s sentence and zeroed in on their conversation.

“What do you _mean_ Mary isn’t dressing up?” Ailana accused. “We dress up _every year._ It’s a bloody tradition!”

“That’s what I told her!” Lily said, pointing her fork at Mary.

“Well, I don’t want to dress up this year.” Mary shrugged. “I made plans with Simon, and he’s not dressing up so I would feel weird.”

“Wait just a minute here,” Ailana said, feeling as though she was later to this conversation than she had originally thought. “You’re tellin’ me that you’re ditching us on Halloween to hang out with a _boy?_ I mean, _Mary_, who knew you had it in you.”

Emmeline picked up Ailana’s train of thought: “Halloween is no less than our most _favorite _holiday, Mary.”

“Yeah,” Lily chimed in, “you can’t just expect us to carry on without you.”

“Oh come off it,” Mary mumbled, pushing her food around on her plate. “We all know that you lot can divvy up my portion of the alcohol, and it’s not like I won’t be at the party at all. Our plans aren’t till later.”

“Oh they just like giving you a hard time, is all,” Marlene said, looking pointedly at everyone. Ailana, happy that she wasn’t far behind on _this_ particular portion of the conversation, took up the initiative.

“Of course, of course,” Ailana said, reaching past Emmeline to pat Mary on the hand. “We’re happy for you, Mary.”

“I can be happy for her and still be jealous at the same time,” Lily added, tilting her head and stabbing a piece of pumpkin pie with more force than strictly necessary.

“Why are we jealous?” Alice asked, forcing her way onto the bench between Lily and Marlene.

“Because Mary’s got a bloke to sneak away to after the Halloween party and Lily doesn’t,” Emmeline informed.

“Oh that,” Alice said, scooping dessert onto her plate with practiced efficiency. “I guess that means you don’t want to hear about my plans with Frank?”

Professor Dumbledore getting to his feet interrupted both Lily and Emmeline’s side-eyed glare.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

The counter in the bathroom was covered in glitter and fake blood. Every speck and drop was courtesy of Sirius’s Halloween costume, or rather Sirius’s insistence on Halloween costumes. James eyed the mess distastefully, knowing that he was already late—a fact that the boys in the next room reminded him of every twenty seconds—and knew that he didn’t have the time to clean it up at the moment.

“Oi!” Sirius yelled from the other side of the door. “How much longer are you going to try and tame your hair, Prongs? Let’s not pretend to think that it can ever lie flat.”

James, who was actually rolling up the sleeves of his oxford shirt, yelled back. “Let’s not pretend that it wasn’t you who was holed-up in the bathroom for forty minutes!”

James rolled his eyes at the expected “perfection can’t be rushed” response. He took a final glance at his costume in the mirror: Spello-tape was wound around the bridge of his square-rimmed glasses and the suspenders he wore kept his too short black slacks secure at his navel. He begrudgingly decided that Sirius’s idea of being himself, or rather, "embracing the fact that you're a complete nerd,” was actually a good idea. James sighed and opened the door, switching off the oil lamp as he went.

James was beyond excited for this party. Although he was more of a fan of Christmas, he never minded throwing together a Halloween party with his friends. And ‘throwing together’ the party was an understatement. James and the other Marauders spent weeks planning this party, James and Sirius being the most invested. (Sirius for the “_exceptional_ costume ideas that were thought up” and James because… well because he knew Lily loved this holiday.) (He also knew he was a complete sap, but he’s learned to forgive himself.)

It took a great deal of time and patience to get the alcohol smuggled in from Hogsmeade, the food brought up from the kitchens, and the right group of first years to be bribed into asking McGonagall for “help on their transfiguration essays” in order to keep her from coming ‘round the common room later. James reasoned that occupying McGonagall with boring first years was better than flooding the second-floor bathrooms—really, they were being considerate.

The end result of all the Marauders’ toiling was an amazing party that the rest of the school wished they were in Gryffindor for. The stories resonating from their fifth year party, as well as the party they planned with the other seventh years in their fourth year, still circulated the school sometimes if the current gossip wasn’t up to par. Last year had been particularly memorable because the party coincided with a Quidditch win and everyone was riding on a high.

James loved it.

James took one glance at his friends’ finished costumes before grinning. Sirius’s hair was, as usual, impeccable, but the glitter that he had practically dumped onto it made sure that he was going to stand out in the dimness of the common room. He wore a toga, tied so intricately that James had no idea how it worked, and he held a pulsing lightning bolt in one hand.

_Give it up to Sirius’s dedication,_ James thought.

Peter was… _less_ than dedicated, but the striped prisoners jumpsuit he wore, and the chain that hung around his neck looked real enough that James was surprised that it wasn’t heavy when he grabbed it to get a closer look. Remus’s costume, the clever shit, was simply smears of fake blood that was dripping from his lip and lathered up his arms. He had on a t-shirt that said ‘I’m not a vampire’ that he’d obviously bought from a Muggle store over the summer.

The party was in full swing by the time they made their entrance. A girl dressed up as a pixie and Tobias, the keeper for the Quidditch team, accosted Sirius immediately, and he was happily dragged away to the refreshments table. Remus and Peter gave James a significant look and Remus nodded in the direction of a cluster of girls standing at the outer edge of the makeshift dance floor. He spotted Lily immediately and his mouth went a little dry at the sight.

She was wearing a very short red dress that, while covering everything important, left very little, while also a _whole lot_, to James’s imagination. The red tights that she wore under the dress were ripped strategically and James ran his eyes up the length of her legs. Her dark mass of red hair almost obscured the small horns on her head, but the tail attached at the small of her back made it quite clear what she was dressed up as.

She was the devil.

By Godric she was going to be the death of him.

Slapping Remus twice on the chest, but never taking his eyes off Lily, he left his two remaining friends at the base of the dormitory stairs and pushed his way across the floor to Lily. The walk seemed to take forever, but that let him work out what he wanted to say, so as not to make a fool of himself.

_Why hello, Evans,_ was what first popped into his head, but he decided it was too general a statement. James wanted to say something… _significant._

_You look amazing, Evans, want to get out of here? It’s a little stuffy isn’t it,_ was the second thought that popped into his head, but he reasoned all that would earn him was a firm slap to the back of his head.

His third thought was _so much for planning_ because he had reached their table and it was too late to back down.

“Well, well, Evans,” he drawled, thinking fast. “You are looking mighty devilish this evening. Got any nefarious plans for later?”

_Wow that was actually a little smooth…_

Lily craned her head back to look at him, and he didn’t hear a single word that came out of her mouth. He was _way_ too busy focusing on the black makeup surrounding her eyes and trying not to stare straight down the front of her dress. That brought their obvious height difference to the forefront of his mind, which he noticed was much more now than it was in the beginning of the summer, and James appreciated that he’d be able to fold her directly into his chest.

“What was that?” he asked, once again thinking fast. “The music’s really loud, and I didn’t quite hear you.”

This proved to be one of the best lines he’d utter all night because she put a hand on his chest and stood on her tiptoes to speak directly into his ear.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe,_ he chanted as he lowered his head closer to her mouth.

“I said, ‘If taking care of my plastered friends and waiting up for Mary in the dorm after her date counts as nefarious, then hell yeah, my plans are downright wicked.’”

The ghost of her breath tickled his ear and he _just_ managed to hold his shivers at bay. The goosebumps that erupted across the back of his neck couldn’t be helped though.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe,_ he thought again.

“No date for yourself then?” James asked, latching onto a topic with desperation.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p.’ His eyes stayed glued to her mouth, and her red lipstick, as she continued. “I’m all by my lonesome tonight. The rest of the girls and I decided that we’d have more fun and less regrets if we went together, rather than with any blokes.”

“Don’t listen to her, James!” Ailana laughed, taking a deep drink from her cup. James tore his eyes away from Lily and noticed that Ailana was wearing a dark purple, 1920’s flapper dress. He knew because there was an old picture of his mother in one on the mantle in his den from when she was younger. “Lily would have ditched us in a heartbeat if someone had asked her!”

“Lies!” Lily yelled back at her friends, though James noticed that she blushed rather deeply. Before he could think too much on that, another one of her friends spoke up.

“I’m ditching you ladies in a half hour because of a date,” Mary said, popping a crisp into her mouth and smiling. “What _ever_ will you do without me?”

“I would’ve ditched you lot too, if someone had asked me,” Marlene sighed, her gaze settling on something, or some_one_, over James’s shoulder.

“Thanks for being honest, Marley,” Emmeline laughed.

James smiled at their easy banter, but his smile was replaced with surprise when a hand gripped his suspenders, and small knuckles ran up the length of his chest and over his shoulder. James looked down at Lily, but couldn’t think of anything that he could say as he watched her. She kept her gaze on her hand, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from her slightly curious expression. The music faded to a dull pounding in the background and the lights seemed to dim.

_Was it just me or did it just get a_ lot _warmer in here?_ he wondered, making sure to keep his face as blank as possible. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.

“It was twisted,” Lily explained, letting her hand drop immediately once she caught his eye. Her blush had deepened as well, and he was happy to watch it creep up her neck. James tilted his head and continued to stare at her, taking in her features. His gaze, once again, involuntarily dropped to her lips, but she noticed the action this time. When he flicked his eyes quickly back up to hers at her sharp inhale of breath, he saw that her eyes had widened significantly.

He cleared his throat when she stepped back, and looked over only to see Marlene’s knowing smile and a cat-like grin plastered on Ailana’s face. He immediately looked back at Lily and blurted out the first thing that popped into his head, desperate to extricate the situation.

“Dance!” he said. She only raised her eyebrows and looked at him like he was losing his mind. And who knew, he probably was if his complete lack of coherent thought was anything to go by. So he tried again, forcing his mouth to work slower this time.

“I-I want you to… dance with me,” he said.

Then he realized that that sounded too much like a demand and tried to backtrack. He felt like he was mucking this up, and weirdly this moment felt very critical in the grand scheme of things.

“I mean, I would like it if you would dance with me. Only if you want! Only if you want to dance!”

When he heard a soft giggle escape her lips, he let out a long exhale. Thoughts began flooding his brain again, and the music in the common room was once again loud. When he spoke for the last time, his voice was softer and his tone calmer.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

She nodded once, lacing her fingers through his. Her hand was soft and small, and the thought clanged through him that this was the first time he’d ever held her hand. As she pulled him onto the dance floor it was as if she had been the one who’d asked him to dance.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

As Lily led James onto the dance floor, Mary rested her chin in her hand and hated the both of them just a little bit. They were both right in front of each other, but neither one of them were actively doing anything about their feelings. The easy way in which James and Lily complemented each other brought a wistful smile to her face and a longing to her heart. Those two didn’t even _know_ what they had. Mary knew their legendary romance was still months away from actually happening, but watching them build up to it was sure to drive her insane. She had read too many romance novels in her life, so she knew that their love would be one for the books; however, she hoped that they will avoid the ‘you waited too long to say yes so I moved on’ cliché.’

Lily and James were jumping around, but they still hadn’t dropped their clasped hands. When the fast-paced song ended, and a slower one began to tinkle out of the record player, they just stood there, facing one another and shuffling nervously from foot to foot.

They took long enough that Mary thought they were going to go their separate ways, but then James stepped up. Mary watched as he slowly slid his right hand around Lily’s hip and settled it at the small of her back. Mary watched as Lily stepped into the circle of James’s arms and put a hand around his shoulder. Lily, having never dropped his hand in the first place, still clasped onto James’s other hand tightly in her right one. Mary watched the smiles finally creep back onto their lips, and then Lily threw her head back as she laughed at something James said.

Mary hoped she would have that one-day—that simple type of love.

She hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud until Emmeline grasped her hand tightly and said, “You _will_ Mary.”

“No,” Marlene began, “don’t tell me that you want to base all your romantic dreams on Lily and James? All they do is skirt around each other in conversation and refuse to tell each other how they feel! Maybe once they actually get their shit together and start actually_ dating,_ then hoping to be like them won’t be as depressing.”

“Damn, Marlene,” Ailana whistled. “Who spat in your pumpkin juice?”

“I’m just saying that I would want a love where both parties know how the other person feels!” Marlene defended.

Mary looked back out to Lily and James, and watched as Lily slowly let her head fall forward onto James’s chest. His arms seemed to tighten around her in response, and Lily’s eyes slowly fell closed.

“I stand by what I said,” Mary sighed, gesturing to the dance floor. “They’re obviously going to figure it out eventually—if they don’t already know. I mean how could they not? And once they do, they’ll be epic. Don’t be such a downer, Marlene.”

“I’m not being a downer!” Marlene protested. “Why don’t you guys ever listen to–”

“Mary’s right,” Emmeline interrupted. “A person can only go so long before they go crazy telling everyone that they’re _‘just friends’. _I give ‘em till New Year’s before they break down and confess.”

“That’s way too soon!” Mary responded. “I say _at least_ Easter hols’.”

“Well if we’re taking bets,” Ailana injected, “then I say it’s going to take them the whole school year. There’s no way James is going to ask her out again after what happened last time, and we all know Lily is a complete _wuss_ when it comes to taking the romantic initiative. Yeah, I most definitely say the end of the year—May at the earliest. What do you think, Marlene?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Marlene said, taking a large gulp of her drink.

“Of course it does,” Ailana rebutted. Ailana continued to converse quietly with Marlene, but Emmeline spoke up again and drew all of Mary’s attention.

“Well no matter when they work up the courage, they’re going to be so much _worse_ than Frank and Alice,” Emmeline said, wrinkling her nose in apparent disgust. Mary couldn’t help but agree. “We’re not even going to be able to be in the same _room_ as them. They’ll have been building up to the whole thing for _years_ and they won’t be able to stay away from each other. _Blegh._”

.:..:.

Mary stepped out of the portrait hole a half hour later to meet up with Simon. She was beyond nervous. It was her first _real_ date, and she didn’t want to make a complete fool of herself (some foolishness was expected, but she hoped to avoid outright idiocy). Overthinking was something that was just going to make it worse though, so she turned down the corridor and walked up to her date.

Simon looked _very_ nice. He wasn’t dressed up by any means of the word, but the sweater he wore was snug to his chest, and drew her attention immediately. His hair was shorter than it had been this morning, but she liked the new look. It was shaved short, and there was only enough hair at the top for a little spike in the front. He smiled down at her when she finally reached him.

“Hi,” she said, not knowing what to do with her hands.

“Hello,” he replied. He then scrunched his nose and asked, “What’s this?”

He was fingering the small brown cat ears that the girls had forced her into before coming down the dormitory stairs. She was so used to wearing headbands that she had completely forgotten about them. Heat spread up her neck as she pulled the offending costume from her head.

“Oh, this,” she stammered, more nervous now. “It’s just this thing that Gryffindor has been doing the past few years. Some guy who graduated a few years ago started making everyone wear costumes to the Halloween party. Until last year, it used to be mandatory or the Seventh years would send you back to your dormitory. It’s this Muggle thing, at least I think it’s purely Muggle, but people dress up in costumes on Halloween in the Muggle world. And my—um, my friends wouldn’t let me down the stairs unless I put these on.”

Mary realized she was rambling by the end of it, but Simon only laughed. “That sounds interesting,” he said. “I’m not used to Muggle traditions. I actually don’t know anything about them.”

“I can tell you about them?” Mary offered, craning her neck to meet his eyes.

“Maybe,” he replied. The uncomfortable look that flashed across his face was gone before she could analyze it, but it pleased her to know that he was as nervous about this as she was.

“So,” he said, starting off down the corridor. “I want to know more about you. What’s your family like?”

Mary followed along beside him. “Well,” she began, “my parents own a grocery store back home in Kingsdon. My older brother, Anthony, works in London at this dingy old pub. He loves it so much, and I’ve not a single clue as to why. I think he just wanted to get away from home actually, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m away at school all year anyway, and I still see him on holidays, so I’m glad he’s happy with what he’s doing. And I’ve got two younger sisters, Ollie and Georgia. They’re both still in primary school.”

“Primary school?” Simon asked.

“You really don’t know anything about Muggles, do you?” Mary laughed.

“I’ve never had any reason to know anything before I met you.” Simon smiled.

Her heart did a little stutter in her chest, and she began talking again to cover up how flustered he was making her. “Primary school is where young kids go to learn the… uh, the _basics,_ like maths and history and science, I guess? I started going when I turned five, and I had just finished my last year when I got my Hogwarts letter.”

“So you’re the only one in your family that’s got any magic at all?” Simon asked.

“Well, I’ve got an auntie that lives on an island somewhere that my parents are convinced is a witch,” Mary laughed. “But I just think they say that because they don’t like her. She’s a little eccentric, and she’s got some funny quirks that involve tarot cards and sage that my family likes to ignore, but, yeah, I’m the only witch in the family.”

“That must be weird,” Simon commented.

“Not really,” Mary replied. “It’s actually not weird at all. They’re so interested in asking questions about everything that I do and learn all year, that there’s no time for them to be weird about it.”

They fell into a silence that wasn’t exactly… comfortable, so Mary rushed to fill it. “What about you, though? Are you close with your family?”

“I’m an only child,” Simon responded easily. “So it’s just my parents and me, which I really wouldn’t have any other way. I like the quiet of the house, you know? Anyway, my dad’s an independent banker—he works with investments and the like, which is the most boring job that I could ever think of having. I’ll probably still take over the company when I’m older, though.”

“So you’ve got a job lined up for after school already? That’s nice even if you don’t particularly like it. It’s got to give you some sense of ease not have to worry about stuff like that.”

“I guess so,” Simon conceded. “My mother, though, she’s brilliant. Always spouting some kind of philosophical nonsense that somehow makes sense. She wants me to ‘follow my heart’. I think she knows that I’ve never wanted to use my father’s name to get anywhere in life—that I’ve wanted to do things my own way.”

“What does _‘doing things your own way’_ entail?” Mary asked. She only had a side view of his face so she couldn’t see the emotions flit across it, but she did notice the new tension in his shoulders. She furrowed her brow, hoping she hadn’t over-stepped.

“I want to fight for the cause,” he said very slowly. “I want to help end the war the right way, and for the right people.”

Mary smiled. “I think that’s very noble of you. I was thinking of fighting too, especially when the people on the opposing side are people who think that I shouldn’t, you know, be _alive_. I don’t know how helpful I’d be with a wand—in the thick of it, you know, so quietly helping is the way I’ll likely go.” She took a deep breath. “_Not _helping is unimaginable, and I’d essentially be complicit in genocide, so I’ll figure out my path.”

Simon grabbed her hand, and the action was comforting after such a grimy topic. She said one last thing, not able to keep the thought at bay, “It’s not my fault I was born with a little magic in my veins.”

“Of course it’s not your _fault,_” Simon said in a rush. “And from what I’ve heard, you’ve got more than just ‘a little magic’, Mary. But, let’s tuck this conversation away for another day… perhaps for our third date?”

Mary smiled and looked down to their clasped hands. Thinking far enough ahead to imagine a _third_ date made Mary blush because they were only fifteen minutes into their _first_ date. Her nervousness settled a little, and when she looked back to him, he was already looking at her.

“Waiting for the third date sounds good to me,” Mary said.

“Fantastic,” Simon enthused. “Why don’t I tell you all about my romantic plans to woo you, yeah? I’ve got a very _beautiful_ picnic prepared for us in the Astronomy tower, and you’ll be happy to know that it’s a very clear night—not a cloud in the sky. It’s fitting for Halloween because we’ll be able to see the bats _swoop_ in front of the moon.”

.:..:.

When Mary wandered back into the common room three hours later, she did so with a dopey smile on her face. The fire was smoldering in the grate, and all evidence of the party was missing from the scene—not a bottle or a speck of glitter in sight. The dormitory itself was cloaked in darkness, but Lily was sitting up in her bed, one side of the curtains drawn so she could watch the door. A charms books was propped on her bent knees and she was in her fuzzy pajamas— the ones she usually wore when she was sad—and as Lily was huge fan of baggy t-shirts and underwear, which she wore on almost every occasion, it was important (and odd) enough to make note of. Lily aimed her wand-light in Mary’s direction as she quietly closed the wooden door behind her.

“How’d it go?” Lily whispered, motioning for Mary to join her on her small four-poster.

Mary nodded at Lily’s request. “It was _great,_” Mary whispered back. “Give me a second to get ready for bed and I’ll tell you more.” Mary unwound Simon’s scarf from around her neck and set it gently on her nightstand before she started pulling on her pajamas. She was conscious of the three other sleeping girls in the dormitory as she quietly rinsed off her face and brushed her teeth. When she settled next to Lily, her friend set her book on the bedside table and wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulders.

“Are you seeing him again?” Lily asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Mary nodded. “He really is as sweet as I thought he was. He asked me about my family, and about what I wanted to do with my life… about my experience as a Muggleborn. It was nice to be asked those questions by someone who actually wanted to hear the answers, you know?”

“Well I could have asked you all that,” Lily giggled.

“You _could,_” Mary conceded, “but would you also hold my hand through the corridors and kiss me goodnight in front of the portrait hole?”

“We _already_ hold hands in the corridors,” Lily reminded. “And I guess I could kiss you goodnight if you really wanted me to.”

Mary puffed out a breath of laughter at her friend’s wink. She shoved Lily in the shoulder, but grabbed her before she tumbled out of the bed.

“How was the kiss?” Lily asked, throwing her comforter over Mary’s legs when she shivered slightly from the wind blowing in through the open window. “Was it everything you’ve ever _dreamed?”_

“Obviously you know I have nothing to compare it to,” Mary drawled, “but it was a pretty fantastic kiss.”

“The girls are going to be so jealous that they weren’t awake to hear about all this,” Lily mused. “Interrogating us about our love lives is what fuels their fire.”

Mary smiled and noticed the use of the word ‘us’. She glanced down at Lily’s pajamas and was concerned immediately.

“They didn’t give you too hard a time about James today, did they? I know they drive you nuts,” Mary sighed.

Lily took a minute before answering. “They weren’t any more obnoxious about it than usual. It’s just hard, you know? They’re always so—and then I don’t know what to do—but then something–”

“Breathe, Lily,” Mary advised. Lily was quiet for awhile this time before thunking her head back against the headboard.

“Never mind me,” Lily said. “Let’s be happy about your date.”

“_Posh,_” Mary protested. “I’ll have to retell my whole story tomorrow over breakfast. You get everything off you chest when it’s just me here to listen, okay?”

Lily bit her lip and nodded. “He makes me stupid.”

“What?” Mary chuckled.

“Potter,” Lily stated. “Potter makes me stupid. I say stupid things, I act like an _idiot_ more than half the time, and my face is always as red as a tomato whenever I’m around him. His _stupid_ face makes me stupid.”

“Do you know why that is?” Mary asked cautiously, not wanting to spook her into silence.

“I’m not a complete dolt, Mary,” Lily drawled. “I don’t need everyone telling me that I’ve got a crush on him, and _embarrassing_ me about that fact, when it’s unpleasantly obvious that they’re right. It just makes it hard to be _me_ around him when I’ve got everyone spewing romantic nonsense into my ear. We’re not _ready_ for anything right now—we’d crash and burn if we jumped into a relationship right now. _Plus,_ I don’t even know if I want a relationship. _Maybe_ I’m a floozy and all I want is a fling.”

“You don’t have to say stupid things to me, now,” Mary reminded. “I’m just Mary, remember?”

Lily smiled and rested her head on Mary’s shoulder.

“Boys are _stupid,_” Lily complained.

Mary didn’t exactly agree with that statement at this moment in her life, but the sentiment was generally correct. She patted her friend on the shoulder anyway and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again everyone! so sorry for the gap between updates, but i hope the chapter was worth the wait. let me know what you think! :))
> 
> yes, i did the cliche "lily is the devil for halloween" thing. sue me jkdsjd
> 
> shafiq really is a family of the sacred twenty-eight. i took some creative liberties on this front because the shafiq’s died out in the 1930’s, but i wanted a pureblood name that people wouldn’t recognize immediately, and adding a whole knew pureblood family to all this would be too much for me, so here we are. 
> 
> this is also code for 'i know way too much shit about harry potter"
> 
> happy holidays everyone!


	9. It's Wrongly Placed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a quidditch match, and the trust of a new friend is called into question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a small trigger warning in this chapter for sexual harassment. it's nothing overly graphic, just a boy being gross and overstepping. if you want more info, dm me on twitter! i'm @lunasdonnelIy (second l in donnelly is a capital i)

_“I’m really trusting, almost to my own demise. When you trust people so much that you aren’t able to see their true intentions, it can really hurt you in the end.” – _Crystal Reed

The beginning of November brought about much colder weather and, most importantly, Sirius Black’s birthday. The party the Marauders threw was surprisingly tame compared to earlier years. Usually the occasion is a big deal, and the entirety of Hogwarts knows about it, but this year it was only the four Marauders locked away in their dormitory. They had shown up to lessons the next day more hungover than she had ever seen them. Lily was actually surprised they’d made it through the entire day. McGonagall was less than pleased, and she conducted a thorough search of the boys’ room and gave them all detention for the following night. Of course, McGonagall found no contraband in their room as their hiding place wouldn’t actually _be_ in Gryffindor tower. It was likely stashed in a suit of armor or behind a tapestry somewhere in the castle—wherever it was, the marauders would be the only ones to ever find it, and here was no way anything would be found unless they wanted it to be found.

Lily had gifted Sirius his present after lessons and before he locked himself away with his friends. She had given him a small silver charm meant to give the wearer peace of mind and bring about calmness of the spirit. She hoped it wasn’t a complete fake since she’d bought it from a street vendor the day she went to Diagon Alley to purchase her school supplies, but she reasoned it was pretty enough that it wouldn’t matter if it was all poppycock. She had attached the charm to a thin piece of leather so Sirius could wear it around his neck if he wanted. It had only been three days since his birthday, but Lily had yet to see him without the necklace. She was glad he liked it—or at least glad he liked _her_ enough to wear it.

November had also brought the Quidditch frenzy to an all-time high. Lily couldn’t make it two feet in the corridor without hearing _something_ about the sport. She was hoping all the talk would die down a little after today, since it was Gryffindor’s first match of the season. Lily desperately needed the fuss to die down because she needed the quiet to finish the heaping amount of schoolwork on her plate. Her love for Quidditch was distracting her from the Transfiguration project that McGonagall had dumped on them a few days ago. This project in particular had halted all future social plans when they were told how much of their grades it accounted for. The only reprieve was that the project had partners, so the work could be divided and conquered. Lily was happy that they had been able to pick their own partners, so she didn’t have to rely on someone who didn’t care about their grade as much as she did. Granted, she _was_ partnered with Ailana, and her best friend was a wild card on the best of days.

Being paired with Ailana was a better alternative than being paired with Sirius, however. That fate fell to Marlene. Despite his brilliance, Sirius didn’t like to sit down and actually do the work. ‘Pulling teeth’ was a phrase that popped into Lily’s mind. It didn’t take a genius to understand why Marlene was so pleased with the arrangement, even if Lily thought her friends crush was in vain. Lily didn’t have the heart to tell Marlene that the only reason Sirius partnered up with her was because he lost the rock-paper-scissor match with James, which then lost him his partner in Remus. Peter, smarter in this moment than both James and Sirius, had already snagged the polite, but genius Ravenclaw that sat in front of him.

As Lily stuffed her Transfiguration work into her bag so she could take it down to the match, Mary laughed and shook her head.

“What?” Lily asked defensively. 

“You _would_ take your work with you to a Quidditch game,” Mary said.

“You know as well as I do that these games can last forever,” Lily defended, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making for the door. “I might as well bring it with me so I have something to do after the first three hours of the game.”

“Of course,” Mary sniped, “we wouldn’t want you to actually have to _socialize_ with your friends.”

“Wow, point taken,” Lily conceded. “Are you going to meet Simon at the match? Or are you hanging out later or something?”

“Or something,” Mary replied cryptically, taking the dormitory stairs at a jog.

“I thought that it’s been going well?” Lily asked as they made their way out of the portrait hole.

“Oh, it has!” Mary was quick to correct. “It’s been going really well, but I still want him to spend time with his friends and stuff. He actually wanted to come with me to the match today, but I told him I had already made plans to go with you lot.”

“Isn’t the point of a relationship to get to know the other person?” Lily asked. “And spending as much time with each other as you can? Considering that we’ve basically no free time at all these days, I thought you’d be happy to have him along.”

Mary was quiet while they waited for the moving staircase to align correctly. Lily was content to wait out the silence, knowing it was better to let Mary come to her own conclusions and speak when she was ready. They’d made it down two staircases and were starting on a third when she spoke again.

“I don’t want him to get sick of me,” Mary admitted. “If he’s spending all his time with me, then he could alienate his friends and then _blame_ me for it. I’m fine with waiting until tomorrow to see him again—Rome wasn’t built in a day, and all. Plus, I really did want to hang out with you lot and watch Gryffindor kick arse at a sport that I don’t understand.”

Lily laughed. “Well as long as it’s what _you_ want. And there is absolutely no way he could ever get sick of you. He’s practically been following you around like a lost puppy since Halloween. He likes you, it’s obvious.”

“Really?” Mary asked, apparently needing the reassurance.

_“Really,”_ Lily stressed. “Even James said something about it when we were in the library the other day.”

“Oh well if _James_ said something about it, then it _must_ be true,” Mary teased. “Because _James_ is right about everything.”

_“Potter,”_ Lily corrected, flushing. Slipping up and calling him James in her head was different than slipping up and calling him James _out loud_. Lily couldn’t believe she had said it so casually, no trace of bitterness or anger coating its existence. Well, she _could_ believe it, actually, but that didn’t make her feel any better. And at least it was only Mary around, and she wouldn’t have to hear about it incessantly over the next few days. “And leave me alone.” Lily laughed.

Their conversation had carried them all the way to the Great Hall where it was inevitably drowned out by the usual pre-game uproar. Insults were hurled across the hall, coming in equal force from both the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. People from all houses were painting their faces, choosing a side in what was usually the most exciting match-up. Lily and Mary squeezed onto the bench next to their other friends who had come down ten minutes earlier. The Gryffindor team sat together a few places down, heads bent together and evidently already discussing strategy.

As she observed them, Lily noticed the distinctly terrified look on Potter’s face. This was highly unusual before a Quidditch match, and she’d never once seen him so stressed out about a game. Lily grabbed a breakfast roll from the basket in front of her, broke off a small chunk, and had thrown it down the table at Potter before she’d even thought about it. It hit him in the cheek and crumbs exploded down the front of his red Quidditch robes. James’s face went from terrified to startled to angry in about half a second flat, but when he looked up and zeroed in on her smirking face, his expression went carefully blank.

“You doin’ alright down there, Potter?” Lily asked, popping a piece of the roll into her mouth. “It’s not like you to be nervous about Quidditch.”

The crazed look that had slowly crept over his expression as she spoke didn’t fade in the slightest as she waited for him to respond.

“It’s not like you to take notice, Evans,” he replied.

Lily shrugged her shoulders and held back the retort that she _always_ noticed these days, and allowed him to bend his head back over the playbook he was trying to absorb. The rest of the breakfast passed with minimal contribution from Lily. She nodded along, and answered queries that were directed her way, but this was normal morning behavior for her so her friends let her be. Her thought processes this morning, however, were taking her down a _very_ different path than it had been in the past few weeks.

It had almost been two weeks since the Marauder Halloween party, and Lily had yet to get the memory of James’s _hands_ out of her head. Those two appendages haunted her dreams at night, and occupied most of her daydreams during class. It wasn’t just his hands, though. It was also his _hair,_ that of which she’d managed to slip the tips of her fingers through on the pretense of helping him right his glasses. Then there was his _smirk,_ and his _stuttering,_ and his _arse in those black slacks, good Godric._

To say the least, that night had been very pleasant. They had danced together most of the night, stopping only for bottles of Butterbeer and the occasional summons from their respective groups of friends. Sometimes they had talked. Sometimes, when the conversation had lulled to a comfortable halt, they had belted out the lyrics to the songs pouring out of the record player. Sometimes, they had simply danced in silence, his _hand_ firmly on the small of her back.

The entire night was _seared_ into her memory, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It still baffled her, and was _extremely_ confusing for her feelings, to have him being so kind and sincere to her one second, and then doing a complete turnabout and driving her up the walls the next. After the party, it had taken them two days before having a violent row in the Potions corridor.

It was only after, when Lily was trying to calm down in the girls’ loo and force her angry flush to recede, that she remembered the dancing. The anger had subsided remarkably quick after that, and she was able to wet her face and head to her next class.

She didn’t know if she liked this new development or not.

The quick change of emotions, that is. Sure, they had always been _friendly,_ but she’d never firmly classify them as friends. Sirius and Remus were the ones she warmed up to first—they had always been friends—but she and Potter had always fought too much for her to make the classification. The quick change from daily pranks and acerbic fighting, to dancing and _being asked out_ was a big difference to her. Lily didn’t know how to label what they were now. ‘Going with the flow’ wasn’t exactly something that she was good at, either. The constant surprises and the complete uncertainty that she felt most days made her a little anxious, and her sleep deprived brain was hating her for it.

An abrupt increase in volume in the Great Hall yanked her from her thoughts. The entire Gryffindor team had gotten to their feet as one, and people were getting in their last minute words of encouragement or insult. Lily waved to Marlene and Ailana and gave two thumbs up to Sirius. Potter seemed to have no intention of looking in her direction, but he must have felt her gaze. Lily mouthed the words ‘good luck’ and smiled encouragingly. His only response was to nod, but she was happy to see some of the tension drain from his shoulders as he followed his team out the doors.

.:..:.

Lily and her friends followed the rest of the crowd down to the pitch not long after the team had left. The sheer excitement surrounding her got her adrenaline pumping, and she was almost bouncing down the path. Emmeline must have felt the same rush in her veins because her grin was big enough to see from space, and she was calling out greetings to anyone who would look at her for longer than a second.

On the other hand, Mary was quiet. This wasn’t unusual for her, as she was a naturally quiet person, but there was a furrow in her brow and she kept reaching up to touch her left ear. This nervous tick hadn’t been seen since fourth year, so Lily was trying to steal glances her friend’s way without being obvious about it.

“What’s up, Mary?” Emmeline asked, completely avoiding Lily’s ‘leave-her-alone’ stare. “You not excited for the match? It’s the first Gryffindor match of the season!”

“I feel like I’ve forgotten something,” Mary mumbled as Emmeline grabbed ahold of her hand.

“What kind of something? Something you need to tell us or something you need to go back to get?” Emmeline asked, swinging Mary’s hand between them as Lily watched.

“I’d have to remember it to be able to know if I need to go back for it, Em,” Mary snapped.

“Whoa there,” Alice said from behind them. “You alright, Mary?”

“Fine,” she said, stopping in her tracks and pulling her hand away from Emmeline’s. “I’m just goin’ ta’ nip back up to the dorm for a second. Don’t wait up, I’ll be back down before the game starts.”

“You sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?” Lily asked, concerned for her friend. Their talk from earlier, the reappearance of Mary’s old ticks, and the meticulously clean dorm room drifted into the forefront of Lily’s mind.

“No, no, of course not,” Mary said, looking as if she were forcing a smile onto her face. “Don’t miss the game for silly ole me. It’ll take me two minutes, promise.”

“Well all right then,” Emmeline said, her brow crinkling. “See you in _two minutes.”_

Mary only nodded once before turning to fight her way through the tide of students. Lily watched her go until she could no longer see her dark hair amongst the crowd. Emmeline brought the attention back around to herself when she yelled to a group of Hufflepuff boys walking too slowly in front of them, though she too had watched the entirety of Mary’s retreat into the castle.

Once they had taken their seats, Lily’s excitement for the match pushed everything else to the back of her mind. There were a few minutes before the teams were to take to the air, and Lily and her friends took the time to situate each other’s scarfs and collectively fix Emmeline’s face paint when she smudged the small glittery Quaffle on her cheek.

One by one, the players took off from the ground as their names were announced, and Lily cheered along with the rest of Gryffindor house. She had to admit that she was proud when their collective cheer drowned out the sound of the announcer’s voice. This year, the announcer was a fourth year Hufflepuff named Sam Barton. Lily hoped he wasn’t _completely_ biased. The teams each circled one half of the stadium, throwing the Quaffle back and forth and warming up their muscles.

At ten on the dot, the teams gathered around Madam Hooch. There was no conceivable way to hear what Madam Hooch was saying, but both teams were nodding their heads. The Slytherin captain, Lucinda Talkalot, was a sturdy sixth year girl built like she was already a professional athlete. After Madam Hooch bade the two captains to shake hands, and they consequently attempted to break each other’s fingers, the Quaffle was released and the game began.

“And the Quaffle is taken by Gryffindor’s McKinnon,” Barton said. His voice was raspy, as if he had a deep chest cold. It was a good announcing voice, Lily decided. “And McKinnon is racing up the pitch, she passes long to Chase who completes a backwards pass to Potter who—_ooh_ that was a rough hit from that Bludger sent by Stanford. Potter drops the Quaffle and it’s intercepted by Slytherin Chaser, Rosier.”

Lily groaned with the rest of the crowd. She watched Potter take off after Rosier, bent low over his broom. He hadn’t even faltered when the Bludger had slammed between his shoulder blades—even though it was sure to leave a bruise.

“Rosier dodges the Bludger from Fernández,” Barton started again. “He swerves around Chase and ducks under the bat of Black! Rosier passes to Warrington who passes _back_ to Rosier! And it’s just him and the Keeper! And Gryffindor Keeper falls for the feint! SLYTHERIN SCORES! TEN- ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!”

Lily groaned. Tobias looked furious with himself. He was yelling at both Anthony and Sirius, neither of whom looked happy, and gesturing wildly with one hand. Potter flew up to them, diffusing the tension quickly and ordering them back to their positions in the middle of the pitch. He patted Tobias on the shoulder, and followed his other players to the restart position.

“And we’re off again!” Barton yelled. “Gryffindor’s in possession. McKinnon heading towards the Slytherin goals— she passes to Potter who dodges that _impossible_ Bludger from Slytherin Beater Stanford. Fool him once, I reckon. And it’s just Potter and the hoops! HE SCORES! GRYFFINDOR HAS EVENED THE SCORE! TEN-TEN!”

The game continued in roughly the same manner for the next hour and a half. Both teams were evenly matched and the game was brutal. By the end of the first hour, the score was 90-80 Slytherin’s favor, but Marlene whipped the Quaffle through the hoop in the next second, and the game was tied again. With the scores so close, it became clear that the catching of the Snitch was the only way either team would win. It was going to be some nail-biting action when it finally came down to it because Goldstein and Calore—Kasey Calore being Elizabeth Goldstein’s seeker counterpart—were of roughly the same build. They had both feinted a number of times to draw the opposing player away from the Snitch, and there was a close call when Calore had gotten a few feet from the Snitch before Sirius’s Bludger had slammed into the tail of his broom and sent him spinning.

Lily hadn’t even thought about pulling out the Transfiguration work from her bag, the score too close and the plays too exciting for her to look away. She’d been on her feet for the whole match, and her calves were protesting from all the jumping, but Lily was having the best of times. She’d almost had a heart attack, though, when a Bludger had careened into Marlene’s arm. Marlene was still wincing—Lily was pretty sure her friend had broken her wrist—but she’d refused to leave the game or allow Madam Hooch to examine her. Marlene was playing through the pain, continuing to bullet her passes across the pitch, and this fact just further proved that Marlene was one of the toughest people she knew.

At the peak of the game, Lily watched in absentee horror as little, _little,_ Elizabeth dove towards the ground at breakneck speed, the Slytherin Seeker right on her tail. Lily was jumping up and down, clutching Emmeline’s arm, as she waited to see who would catch the Snitch. The match was coming to the point where the players were winding down, the score was at a stand still, and the crowd was getting antsy for a win. She knew in her gut that this was the final push and that one team would be crowned the victor in the next thirty seconds.

The brutality hadn’t yet diminished, however. Even as Elizabeth pulled deftly out of her dive, and Sam Barton yelled “GRYFFINDOR WINS!” into the microphone, Slytherin Chaser, Joseph Alden, slammed into Ailana’s back, nearly knocking her from her broom and definitely knocking the Quaffle from her arms. Despite the crowd’s obvious outrage, Lily was surprised by Ailana’s restraint when she just let it go and flew over to her team to celebrate.

It happened, though, when Lily was jumping and cheering, grabbing her friend’s hands.

She went to look for Mary, and she realized that Mary had never come back.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

“No, no, of course not,” Mary said, forcing herself to smile. “Don’t miss the game for silly ole me. It’ll take me two minutes, promise.”

Mary barely heard Emmeline’s response as she turned back towards the school. Mary knew she hadn’t actually forgotten to _bring_ anything; she just had the nagging feeling that she’d left a pen lying on her desk rather than in its holder—and a spot on the bathroom sink was an intrusive thought at the forefront of her mind. If she didn’t go check and see, she knew that she was going to go insane, thinking about it for the entirety of the Quidditch match. It was apparently one of those days where she needed to make sure everything was where it needed to be. The few seconds of alone time were going to allow her to catch her breath as well—calm herself down a little.

She made it up to the dormitory in record time, trying to stick to her promise of making it back down to the match in two minutes. There was no pen on her desk and everything was where it should be. Mary, knowing that she was being particularly insane, dumped all the pens out of their holder and then put them back in the same placements that they were in before. Then she smoothed out her duvet cover and made her to the bathroom. There _was_ a spot on the bathroom counter, and Mary hastily wiped it away.

She then made her way back down the dormitory steps.

Speeding through the portrait hole and flying down the moving staircases, Mary slipped behind the tapestry shortcut that Emmeline had shown her last year and immediately regretted her decision. Avery and Mulciber, two sixth year Slytherins, were conversing a few feet into the corridor. They both looked up sharply when the tapestry swooshed shut behind her, and she couldn’t even manage to take a step backwards before Mulciber grabbed her arm, tugging her violently towards the torchlight. Mary’s heartbeat was thudding a mile a minute against her ribcage, but she refused to let her unease show on her face. She attempted to tug her arm out of Mulciber’s grip, but he held fast, his grip bruising.

“Well, well, well,” Avery drawled. “What do we have here?”

Avery lounged against the wall opposite her, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. Mulciber stepped closer to her, pulling her back against his front and grabbing ahold of her other arm. He smelled uncomfortably of cigarettes, inexpertly masked with expensive cologne. She leaned away from him as far as she could and maintained eye contact with Avery.

“Just a Mudblood out for a stroll?” Mulciber crooned into her ear, stepping closer and making any personal space she had just gleaned obsolete. “Where are all your little friends, hmm?”

Her stomach was roiling with nausea now, and she tried to pull away from Mulciber again, hating the way his breath brushed across her neck.

“Let me go,” Mary ordered, her voice steady.

“I don’t think we’ll do that.” Avery smirked. His eyes were hard, but he had yet to move from his relaxed position against the wall.

“What do you want?” Mary asked, changing tactics.

“Oh, but you’re the one who ran into us,” Mulciber said. She could feel him shaking his head. “I think it should be _us_ asking _you_ what you want?”

“Would you like anything from us, Mary?” Avery asked, a nasty gleam in his eyes.

Mary stayed silent, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of hearing her voice shake.

“Well, we happened to learn a few… _tricks_ over the summer holidays,” Avery continued, her silence seemingly expected. “Would you like to see them?”

Her silence wasn’t as well appreciated this time. Mulciber dropped one of his hands and she was too focused on stepping out of his circle of space that she missed the flick of Mulciber’s wrist. She felt the burn of a stinging hex across her thigh, but Mulciber was sloppy. She’d had worse burns from the curling iron she shares with her mother back home.

“He _asked_ you if you’d like to see them?” Mulciber repeated. “You’re being extremely impolite today. Were you raised in a barn, hmm?”

“No,” Avery cut in with a harsh laugh. “She was just raised by the animals that inhabit the barn.”

Mary was strong enough to let personal insults fly over her head, having been on the receiving end of hateful comments since she began at Hogwarts, but she could _not_ stand anyone directly insulting her parents. Her parents worked hard everyday, they worked _way_ too hard to be perceived as _animals._ She lunged forward, taking advantage of not having both her arms in a tight grip, but her fist only grazed Avery’s jaw before Mulciber once again had her pinned up against his chest. Her arms bent uncomfortably behind her back this time, and he had wound his arm across her chest, giving her no range of movement at all.

Avery clicked his tongue disapprovingly, and ran a hand over the spot she had almost clocked him. “I guess we need to teach you some manners, don’t we?”

Mary kept her mouth shut, knowing that if she opened it, an angry scream would come tumbling out. As she stared down the end of Avery’s wand, she knew immediately that he was much more precise than his disgusting friend who was currently brushing his nose through her hair and blatantly groping at her waist.

When he flicked his wrist, a searing pain began spreading from her chest to the ends of her fingertips. At once, _not_ screaming became almost impossible, but Mary kept her eyes trained on Avery’s, refusing to let on about how much he was hurting her. When her body started to shake involuntarily, and she was beginning to think it would never stop, the tapestry she had come through swished open to emit a friendly face.

Simon stopped, locked eyes with Mary, and then shoved Avery hard into the brick corridor behind him, breaking his spell. Mulciber, apparently surprised with the harshness of the interruption, immediately let go of Mary. Mary staggered forward into the wall, and let out a huge breath as she grasped for purchase in the smooth brick.

She found her purchase in the form of Simon, who caught her right before she blacked out.

.:..:.

Mary blinked her eyes open slowly. Everything felt heavy, especially her arm as she lifted it to shield her eyes, and her chest was cold. She groaned and tried to sit up. The vague shapes surrounding her began to spin and she knew sitting up had been a _terrible_ idea. Her stomach roiled dangerously as a gentle hand pushed her back onto her pillows.

“Easy, dear,” someone said. “We don’t want you hurting yourself after I just spent an hour fixing you up, do we? You were in an accident, Miss MacDonald, so just sit back, now, while I check you over.”

The fog in her brain cleared, and she nodded slowly to whom she now recognized as Madam Pomfrey. When the matron had at last instructed her to take her final potion, Madam Pomfrey set the back of her hand to her brow.

“Some of your friends are here to see you, Miss MacDonald,” she said quietly. “I would recommend you simply rest, but if you would like to see them, I can bring them in for just a little while?”

Mary was still confused on what had happened to her so she told Madam Pomfrey that she’d like to see her friends. As the healer drew back the curtains, three familiar faces crowded around her instantly.

“What happened?” Emmeline rushed out, looking as if she was restraining herself from collapsing on top of Mary in worry.

“Are you okay?” Lily added, reaching out to grasp Mary’s hand gently.

Alice was the calmest of the three as she smoothed Mary’s blankets and brushed the hair from Mary’s eyes. She finally settled at the foot of the hospital bed and rubbed a comforting hand along Mary’s calf through the blanket. “You scared us when we realized that you hadn’t come back down to the game,” Alice said.

“Where’s Simon?” Mary asked. “Is he… is he, uh, okay? I-I remember he was—he was there, wasn’t he?”

“Simon’s fine,” Lily assured.

“And yes, he was there—he’s the one who found you,” Alice confirmed. “Apparently he carried you all the way from the east wing.”

“He’s off talking to Professor Dumbledore right now,” Lily added. “Telling him what he saw. What _did_ happen, Mary? Who did this to you? Because no one is telling us whose arse we need to kick.”

Mary thought back, trying to clear the fog from her mind, but it was incessant. When she couldn’t remember anything about what happened to her, she thought she must be going insane. She knew that she was attacked. She _knew_ this. The simple facts are there. It was two boys, she _knew_ this, and one of them had a row of calluses on his hand. Their names and faces were resting just outside of her realm of knowledge, and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember. All she could see was darkness.

“I don’t remember…” Mary whispered. Her breathing sped up and her eyes began to well with tears. “_Why_ can’t I remember?”

“Mary,” Alice interrupted. “Mary, just breathe. It’s all okay. You don’t have to remember right now. We can worry about it all tomorrow when you’ve had some good rest.”

Mary missed the exasperated look Emmeline shot at Alice. Mary was Emmeline’s _best_ friend and the unknown was annoying her.

“Why don’t we leave you for a while?” Lily offered, rubbing her thumb over Mary’s knuckles. “We’ll be here when you wake up, promise. You just worry about getting back on your feet. I don’t know what poor Emmeline would do without your help on her Transfiguration project.”

Mary let out a weak laugh that made her friends smile. A stray tear slipped down her cheek as she closed her eyes.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Simon stood in front of the Headmaster’s desk, looking around at the strange odds and ends placed in every cranny of the office and keeping his hands relaxed at his sides. The portraits of the long dead Headmasters lined the walls, and he had to hold in his annoyance as he saw them all eyeing him closely. He looked back to Professor Dumbledore.

“Sir, is Professor Flitwick going to be joining us?” Simon asked.

“I see no need for your Head of House to be present,” Dumbledore responded. “I will, of course, inform him of what you did today. However, since you’re not being punished there’s no pressing need for his input. I merely wish to know what happened to dear Miss MacDonald.”

The way Dumbledore was looking at him made him uncomfortable. His stare seemed to penetrate into Simon’s very mind and he had to look away. He glanced down at his hands instead.

“Well, sir,” Simon began, “I was on my way to the Quidditch match–”

“Please, Simon,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Sit down… relax, my boy. There’s no need to rush. Miss MacDonald is safe and sound in the hospital wing, and you can visit her as soon as we’re done here.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Simon said. He sunk down into one of the two overstuffed armchairs situated in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

“Why were you so late at getting down to the match?”

“Well, I was waiting up for my cousin, sir. He’s only a third year, and I know that he likes to watch the matches with me.”

“But you were alone when you found Mary?” Dumbledore tipped his head curiously to one side, his half moon spectacles miraculously not moving a centimeter.

“Yes,” Simon confirmed. “My cousin had apparently gone ahead without me, even though we always walk down together.”

“Any reason why he didn’t wait?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Simon mused. “I haven’t seen him yet today.”

“Of course, of course. What happened when you found Mary then, Simon?”

“I took the secret passageway after the moving staircases because I knew my cousin was probably waiting for me,” Simon said.

“And, naturally, you didn’t want him to wait long. I hear it was a great match today and you would’ve wanted to get there on time.” Dumbledore nodded. “Please continue.”

“Well, I ran right into someone when I entered the corridor, you see. It was all a blur really, but Mary fell into me, and I made sure that I caught her, of course, but whoever did it took advantage of me being distracted with Mary and they took off before I could do anything about them. Mary was unconscious, sir—and trembling—so getting her to Pomfrey was the only thing on my mind at the time.”

Dumbledore nodded and he leaned his chin onto his clasped hands. They sat in silence for a while and Simon tried not to fidget under Dumbledore’s gaze. Simon recognized what the headmaster was doing. It was the same thing that his father did when he was angry and suspected Simon of wrongdoing. Simon was also well aware of his own personal tells: the tapping of his left foot, the slight catch in his breathing, and the clenching of his jaw. He made many efforts not to display any of them now.

“So you did not see who attacked Mary?” Dumbledore finally asked.

Simon thought briefly of Slytherin robes and the quick words he’d exchanged with his two classmates after he had unceremoniously dropped Mary to the ground.

“No sir, I didn’t see who attacked her,” Simon responded. “I wish I did though. What happened to her was awful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lucinda talkalot was an actual slytherin captain while james and lily were at school. i know way too much about this fandom. also, i deviated from canon again because mary macdonald gets attacked in their fifth year, not sixth, but whatever lol
> 
> and simon is a LIAR!!!


	10. Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year.

_“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” – _F. Scott Fitzgerald_, This Side of Paradise._

Marlene woke early on the day of November thirteenth. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and, on these days, Marlene was known to hold her friends up when it came to getting ready as she often slept in. As she forced herself out of bed, she glanced out the window. Overnight, a light dusting of snow had blanketed the grounds, so the trees and the roof of Hagrid’s hut looked as though they were wearing white fluffy hats.

Marlene quietly ducked into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would ease her aching muscles. The residual aches in her wrist from the break she had sustained in the past week’s match were nothing more than phantom pain, but she had really messed up her ligaments when she had continued to play after she knew she’d broken it.

It wasn’t just that though—the rest of her body was protesting her every move as well. Despite the fact that they had won the match against Slytherin, James had been working his team into the ground. Marlene understood where he was coming from, even if she dreaded the practices when they came around. Their team had been a complete mess in the first half of the game, and they never really managed to get back up to their usual level of play. The score had been too close, and it put too much pressure on Elizabeth to catch the Snitch. At least it was the first match of the season, and they had the rest of the year to improve. She hoped that James would lighten up soon and let go of some of the tension that had taken up residence in his shoulder blades.

Marlene was almost tempted to lock him in a broom closet with someone, or goad him into a fight. Either one would help him.

Marlene, knowing how early it was and how much time she’d given herself, took her time in the shower. By the time she was dried and dressed, all her other dorm mates were up and around. Lily, of course, was still dead to the world, but she was an expert at getting ready in two seconds flat so Marlene wasn’t worried about her. Ailana was still bleary-eyed in her bed, wrapped up in her covers and looking as if she had no immediate plans to move.

“Are we heading down to Hogsmeade together?” Marlene asked. “Or do any of you have plans of your own?”

“I know Alice is meeting up with Frank later in the day, but she promised to meet in the Great Hall and head to the village with us,” Emmeline informed.

“And I think the only other one with plans is Mary,” Ailana added, still cocooned in her blankets. “Speaking of, where did she get off to?”

“I’m not sure,” Marlene responded, looking around. “She must have snuck out while I was in the shower because she was here earlier. She’s probably with Simon already, though—I know they wanted to get an early start on the day.”

Marlene collapsed back onto her bed, keeping her feet planted on the floor. She eyed Mary’s pristine desk and neatly arranged four-poster, surprised that her friend had left the dormitory on her own. Mary was surprisingly okay in the wake of her attack, all things considered. After the first few days of increased anxiety, erratic sleeping patterns, and an inability to sleep alone in her own bed, Mary had calmed down a little. Emmeline still slept in Mary’s bed if it had been a particularly bad day, but Mary hadn’t made her bed yesterday and she didn’t say one word about the glob of toothpaste someone had accidently left in the sink—neither action seeming to phase her at all. The fact that she still couldn’t remember who had attacked her was disconcerting, but they just move about in pairs now. It increases the paranoia a little, always having to be conscious of whether or not you’re accompanied by a friend, but it’s infinitely better than being caught unawares.

Marlene _is_ slightly suspicious of Kass, though. She knows that he was the one who rushed Mary to the hospital wing, and that the adrenaline and the confusion in the heat of the moment must have been outrageous, but you’d think that _something_ about the attackers would register. Maybe just the colors of their robes or if they had black hair or blond hair—the sound of their_ voices_ had to of resonated _somewhat._ Whatever Marlene thought, however, didn’t really matter. _Sure_ she could voice her concerns, but who is she to disrupt the happiness of a friend, especially if said friend is traumatized? And finding comfort in her new boyfriend? Simon had really been helping her these past few days—walking her to classes, studying with her late into the night, and even sitting at the Gryffindor table to eat lunch with her…

Marlene let it go.

.:..:.

After Ailana had dragged herself from her bed and forcibly pulled Lily into the bathroom with her so they could get ready, the four of them headed out. They didn’t usually sit down for breakfast on Hogsmeade days because of how much food they ate in the village, but they still popped in to snag a few pieces of toast and some tea from the Great Hall before making their way down the snowy path.

Marlene loved winter. Everything about the season made her happy, and it was her favorite time of the year. Besides the fact that her birthday is on the fifteenth of December, there are other things that she loves: warm and baggy clothes, the promise of Christmas, her older brother coming home from wherever he is that particular month to spend the holidays with her, and the passing of another year.

And a new year means new beginnings, right?

Marlene and the girls started their routine of hitting all the usual stores; Lily liked to frequent the bookshop, Alice and Emmeline enjoyed Honeydukes, and Ailana never passed up the chance for Zonko’s Joke Shop. Marlene was content to follow them around, not caring what order they went to the shops in or even if they bypassed one entirely, as long as they always sat down in the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer before traipsing back to the castle.

The shopping went quickly this time around, the nipping weather pushing them along and forcing them to seek shelter. It wasn’t even half-twelve when they were pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks, the smell of ginger, fried food, and alcohol washing over Marlene and clouding her in a swell of contentment. She spotted the Marauders in the big corner booth at the back of the restaurant, and Ailana made a beeline for them. Marlene deflated only a _little _when she didn’t spot Sirius among them. No matter. Instead of following her friends, though, she broke off to the bar to order their drinks and Lily’s customary bowl of chips.

Madam Rosmerta, whose piercing eyes and perpetually messy curly hair did weird things to her insides, took her order with a smile despite her stuttering.

“She’s hard to talk to, isn’t she?” someone commented to her right. “Too pretty for her own good, I’d say.”

Marlene turned to see Andrew Baskard seated on the barstool next to her, picking his way through what was left of a sandwich. Andrew was a sixth year Ravenclaw that usually irritated everyone around him, her included. He always looked distinctly disheveled, yet not in the sexy way that James managed to pull off—but rather in the boyish, yet to grow into his ears type of messy. It made him look deceptively innocent and managed to make him look approachable. That is, until he either opened his mouth or stood up. Andrew’s voice was a deep baritone, his comments usually ranging on derogatory, and his height rivaled that of Remus Lupin, who was like a human skyscraper. 

“She’s really successful though,” Marlene responded, wanting to come to Rosmerta’s defense. “And her being pretty has nothing to do with it.”

Andrew harrumphed loudly. _Gods _he irritated her. Before she knew it, words were spewing out of her mouth. “I don’t see _you_ with plans to do anything productive after Hogwarts,” she began. “You’re not exactly the most charming person anyone’s ever met, so you’ve got a lot to make up for. Rosmerta obviously lives very comfortably if the rooms here are any indication, _and_ she’s always happy. Who are you to diminish her accomplishments because she’s _pretty? _Plus, she’s super nice.”

“Being nice is overrated,” he replied, seemingly ignoring all her other anxiety fueled points. “I’d rather tell the hard truth than be _nice.”_

“That’s why you have no friends,” Marlene sniped, leaning over the bar and hoping Rosmerta would hurry.

“I have no _friends_ because, as you said, I’m not very _charming_,” Andrew replied. “Thanks for that by the way, _that _was nice of you.”

Marlene kept her head turned away from him and willed herself to calm down, hating the hot feeling she got when blood rushed to her face. She was _nice. _What did he know? She let out a huge breath of air and shoved her hands in her pockets to force them to stop shaking.

“Listen,” Andrew sighed. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I offend people, it’s what I do and apparently I’m really good at it. People usually leave me alone, which sucks, really, so I say aggravating shit to get people to pay attention to me.”

“Not the best strategy, is it?” Marlene asked, holding back a sneer for the first time in her life. She didn’t _sneer_. “You could try being polite and just, you know, _talking_ to somebody. Be interested in learning about someone other than yourself for a change. Ask questions, or something.”

“Questions, hmm?” Andrew mused.

Marlene nodded, looking back at him. She was wary of the glint that he had in his eyes, and the appraising once over that he gave her made her cheeks flush in embarrassment rather than anxiety. She quickly turned away again to check on the drinks she’d ordered, and just to look _anywhere _other than at Andrew-_bloody_-Baskard. Rosmerta had three Butterbeers on a tray and was filling a fourth. Marlene hoped her telepathic waves of panic were reaching the barmaid.

“I have a question for _you_, then, Marlene,” Andrew stated.

“I meant other people when I said that,” Marlene mumbled.

_Hurry, hurry, hurry, _Marlene willed. _Please, Rosmerta._

“Well, I don’t want to ask _other_ people,” Andrew responded, his voice scathing. “I want to ask _you, _you wretch.”

Marlene made blessed eye contact with Rosmerta, who was carrying a full tray of drinks and one order of chips.

“Will you go out with me?” Andrew asked. “Next Saturday at seven?”

Marlene had just handed Madam Rosmerta thirteen sickles when she replied. “No.”

_“No?” _he exclaimed.

“Did you expect a different answer?” she asked. “You _just _called me a wretch right before you asked.”

Marlene couldn’t help the traitorous thought that ran through her mind, though. It was fueled by her lack of self-confidence, and she knew she was being a particular brand of depressing. _At least someone had noticed you, _the niggling thought said. Of all the things that could have spewed out of his mouth, she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her that. People didn’t just _ask _her out. She wasn’t an _idiot, _though. Andrew Baskard was one of the _last _people she’d ever agree to go on a date with.

“Come on,” Andrew whined. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, _I _meant it,” Marlene reiterated, sounding more confident than she felt. “I don’t want to go out with you, Andrew. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friends are waiting for me and their drinks.”

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Severus was tired. He had been up till all hours last night working on his potions essay and the lack of sleep was catching up to him. He _was _excited though, which was way more unusual than his sleeplessness. Since even before he and Lily had fallen out, when they’d been seeing less and less of each other and were constantly saying things they shouldn’t, Hogsmeade trips had bade no change of routine for him. Today was different, though.

Today he was meeting with someone… _higher up_ on the chain than he was to provide them an update on his progress. Despite the fact that he was treated no better than a naïve first year most of the time, being recruited for this mission was something he was proud to be a part of. He’d been even prouder of his decision to help _them _ever since he’d realized that Lily had _very_ obviously chosen Potter and his friends over him.

The others were going to be there too, reporting their information as well, but Severus was focused on himself. Mulciber and Avery were walking a few feet in front of him, their heads bent together so they could talk quietly after he had made no move to participate in any of their asinine conversations. Severus needed to gather his thoughts anyway.

Today was big.

Bigger than any of the other so-called meetings—which were really annoying formalities that wasted his time—from over the summer.

Even though Severus was still in school, a fact that never failed to be brought up, he was still a better potions maker than most. He was very good at tweaking potions and making them stronger, or weakening them enough to where they presented as the same, but had no function. The insane amount of hours that he spent in the potions lab everyday gave him plenty of time to perfect his craft.

He’d been asked to research the Death Cap Draught and experiment on the potion’s properties. Severus had spared only a few minutes’ thought to the… _darkness_ of this potion before doing as he was told. It didn’t take him long to decide that he _wanted_ to expand on this particular potion and see how it could be used in larger capacities. Severus had been agonizing over this task since August and it now dominated every waking hour at school, pushing his N.E.W.T.’s, his social life, and everything else to the background. This was one of the most difficult potions that he’d ever brewed, and even getting it correct on his first try had surprised him. Finally, he’d had a breakthrough. He found out a week ago that if you doubled the amount of Belladonna and added another clockwise stir, then the potion became more potent and a smaller dose could be used. He’d given himself two days rest as a reward before he went over his conclusion and attempted to recreate the results.

He had almost whooped for joy when he confirmed his results. The potion takes over a month to brew while only yielding a small amount, and as it has to be administered in large doses, the supply never lasted long. A small dose just gives the unlucky person a nasty stomach virus, so this was a _huge _win. This breakthrough meant that they could increase their supply without having to double their potion brewing efforts.

Severus and their companions had made it to the village and they were cutting across High Street. Mulciber looked back at him and nodded once. As one, the three of them collectively pulled up the hoods of their cloaks and ducked down a side alley. To ensure that they weren’t being followed, Avery cast a hex on the alley entrance before they continued on their way to the meeting place. They walked quickly, eager to be out of sight of anyone watching from the windows.

In five minutes’ time, they were pushing open the door to a grungy little pub. Both Avery and Mulciber stepped back and forced him to step over the threshold first.

_Cowards, _he thought.

Severus bypassed the few tables closest to the door, and the moderately occupied bar, searching for a table in the back. It was easy to spot where to go. There were two people already seated at the table, and they couldn’t look any less interested in each other if they tried. The tallest man had his long silver hair tied back with leather, and his hand rested on an ornately carved cane that just _screamed _money. He was tall and elegant looking—if extremely ostentatious—and everything about him irritated Severus. He lounged arrogantly in his chair, looking exactly like the stuck-up ponce that Severus knew him to be. It was exhausting to be in the same room as him. Severus was disappointed to see him sitting there because relaying messages to the Dark Lord through Lucius Malfoy, of all people, was a _real _let down.

The other bloke had his back to Severus, but it was easy to place his identity. He was still wearing his Ravenclaw scarf, and he twirled a tumbler of what looked like Firewhiskey in his right hand. The dim light of the pub glanced off his signet ring.

Simon Kass.

“Snape, Mulciber, Avery,” Lucius acknowledged, nodding to each of them in turn and casting a muffliato charm around their table. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

Severus didn’t respond just as Lucius didn’t expect a response.

“Can we get to it?” Simon asked, sighing as he did so. “MacDonald roped me into a day in Hogsmeade and if I’m not back at a reasonable time then she’ll freak out. I’m not exactly in a mood where I want to clean that mess up.”

“Ahh yes, the Mudblood,” Avery drawled as he took out a handkerchief and cleaned off the dirty tabletop with a disdainful look. “You wouldn’t happen to worry about upsetting the thing, would you?”

“You know very well what I’m worried about, Avery,” Simon snapped.

“Have you not gotten into her knickers yet?” Mulciber sneered, making a rude gesture with his hips. “Don’t want to piss ‘er off before you’ve done the deed, huh?”

“I’d never fucking shag her,” Simon drawled, seemingly unconcerned. “Wouldn’t want to contaminate my gene pool if there were an… _accident.”_

_His gene pool? _Severus internally groaned. _Who the fuck did this guy think he was?_

If Severus were being honest, Simon grated on him even worse than Lucius did. At least he could tell that Lucius was a prat as soon as he’d laid eyes on him. Simon was a different story. Everything about him was normal until he opened his mouth and pure _shit _began spewing out. Granted, it took all of two minutes for Severus to store him firmly in the ‘useless’ category, but he gave off an air that he knew everything.

“Are you fools ready?” Lucius asked sardonically. “Or are you going to continue acting like schoolboys?”

“By all means,” Severus said, finally seating himself in one of the open chairs. “Begin.”

“Well,” Lucius steepled his fingers, “we are aware of your limited positions inside of the school. We know that there is only so much that you can contribute to the cause while confined to the tedious nature of classes and the like. However, you were still given small assignments to prove your eagerness. Have you completed these tasks?”

Simon spoke first. “I’ve managed to get an in with a Mudblood named Mary MacDonald. Her lot is… close to Dumbledore and they’d be the first he’d turn to for new recruits on his end. My involvement with MacDonald could hold some sway at the end. From what I gather, her friends would do anything for each other, _including_ paying a hefty ransom if need be.”

“They’re _school _kids,” Lucius drawled. “Where would they get the money for a ransom, hmm?”

“Well her friends happen to include the McKinnons, the Potters, and the Blacks,” Simon added, looking like a cat who got the cream.

“Admirable effort,” Lucius drawled, not looking impressed in the least. Simon’s smile stayed firmly in place, but Severus almost grinned at the annoyance that shone from his eyes. “First, Potter won’t help the cause, so that’s a wasted effort. His parents are too close to the straight and narrow, and they’ve apparently been friendly with that _loon_ of a Headmaster since Medieval times.”

“But–” Simon began.

_“And,” _Lucius urged, “Black is, _apparently, _about to be disowned by his family, so he’ll be of no help either. Funds, or lack thereof, are not the problem, anyway. Many of the old families are dedicated to our cause.”

Simon’s smile had fallen from his face and some, admittedly, quite _large _part of Severus felt _immense _satisfaction at this fact. Before he could gloat too much, Mulciber cut in.

“We’ve gotten a little further than that, though,” Mulciber said, nudging Avery. “We’ve sent a number of Mudbloods to the hospital wing, even one to St. Mungo’s.”

“It’s isolation that we’re aiming for,” Avery continued, leaning back in his chair with ease. “If we can target the people who associate with Mudbloods, then we can strip them of any support. It might be a long process, but the end result would open up a whole bunch of opportunities.”

“Elaborate,” Lucius said.

“If they have no support system, then we can nab ‘em once they leave Hogwarts. Or make them drop out of school all together. They shouldn’t be there in the first place, so this is a temporary solution until legislation can be passed.” Mulciber finished.

“And,” Simon said, looking eager to rejoin the conversation, “we can use my connection with MacDonald to help move this along. Her whole group consists of Blood-Traitors and Mudbloods. They’re also _easily _the most vocal about ‘equal rights’ and all that shit.”

Lucius was quiet for a minute and Severus watched the tension build between his three classmates. It almost, _almost, _made him feel sorry for them. Their idea was small, _insignificant, _and the overall impact that they’d make was even smaller. Weirdly, Lucius seemed to actually be considering what they’d said.

“You don’t seem to be as useless as I initially thought,” Lucius finally mused. “Severus, what have you managed to do with your potion?”

“I’ve made progress,” Severus replied. “I’ve managed to increase the potency, which allows us to use it in smaller doses, _and_ I’ve extended its shelf life. It won’t have to be brewed as much, and the supply will last longer.”

“That’s it?” Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow. Simon snorted into his drink.

“Do you understand potion brewing at all?” Severus asked, his voice mocking. “There’s only so much that you can do to modify a potion before it’s no longer the same potion. I’ll obviously keep working on it, but this is already great news. You can tell _him _what I’ve told you, and he’ll acknowledge this is an accomplishment because you seem to use this potion _a lot_. As I understand it, he’s a _great_ potions master as well, so maybe I’d hold off on your scolding of me ‘till you speak with him.”

Outwardly, Lucius remained unaffected but his fingers had stopped their incessant tapping on the top of his walking stick. “It’s your funeral,” he said.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing he’d already pushed his luck.

“We’ve already been here for too long, so let’s wrap it up,” Lucius said, pushing four separate letters across the table. “For the next few months, I want you to try and recruit some new members. There are specific names for each of you on this list, but you can deviate if there are other interested parties. Overall, the younger they are, the better it’ll be. They’re more impressionable that way. Severus, continue with your work, and branch out to other potions as well. Keep your eyes open for more letters. We’ve got another assignment in the works. In the meantime, continue with what you’re doing.”

Without another word, Lucius stood up and swept from the pub. Mulciber shoved Avery excitedly and laughed, but Avery just shook out his hair and adjusted his cufflinks, smirking slightly but otherwise ignoring Mulciber entirely. Simon nodded once to himself and Severus watched him walk to the bar. He ordered another Firewhiskey, downed it in one go, and then left the pub with a swish of his robes.

Severus sighed before following his example.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Mary was slouched down in a booth in the Three Broomsticks, Emmeline’s arm wrapped comfortably around her shoulders. The presence of her friends and their raucous laughter eased some of the tension from her back, and she’d been leaning on Emmeline’s shoulder since she sat down over an hour ago. Her morning had been _long_—and, if she were being honest, boring and utterly uneventful_._

James, Remus, and Peter sat across from her and they’ve been cracking jokes since she walked in. They were noticeably tamer in their content at the moment, and Mary attributed it to Sirius’s absence. James had refused to say where his best friend had gone off to, making different excuses every time someone asked about it. Mary had the distinct impression that he didn’t actually know where Sirius has gone. Remus, on the other hand, was _completely_ quiet on the issue which led Mary to believe that he knew _exactly_ where Sirius was, but was sworn to secrecy. Alice was missing as well, off doing Godric knows what with Frank, but Marlene, Lily and Ailana were all seated around her.

Mary had spent her morning with Simon, even walking down to the Great Hall alone for the first time since she was attacked so they could get an early start. They had walked down High Street, hand in hand, and dipped into the occasional shop. His attitude, however, had left something to be desired. Mary has had enough to deal with lately, and she was looking forward to a cozy date with her boyfriend. Mary recalled her morning with only a _little_ bit of resentment.

.:..:.

_After Mary heard Marlene slip into the shower, she dressed quickly and left the room. Her small purse with her pocket money was slung over her shoulder and she clutched it tightly on the way to the Great Hall, nervous to turn around corners. Simon had told her that he’d wished to begin their day early, and Mary was happy to oblige him. Plus, she hated that all her friends skipped breakfast on Hogsmeade visits when weekend food at Hogwarts was always the best. Not having to rush off to a lesson made enjoying her ham and eggs _much_ more delightful._

_There _were_ only a few people in the Great Hall when she arrived because all the sane people had yet to leave their dormitories. She scanned the room for Simon, but he was still absent, so she sat down alone at the end of the Gryffindor table._

_Mary, like everyday since the attack, ate her breakfast with her head bowed and her mind whirring. This was her first time eating alone since it all went down and it was honestly slightly disconcerting. The absence of her friends inane chatter and their moody morning jokes was felt keenly. She was frightened of what her subconscious would drag up in the wake of all this silence. On the upside, it was only when she was awake that the bad memories seemed to resurface. At night, both her insomnia and her nightmares were gone in the wake of the Dreamless Sleep potion that Madam Pomfrey had prescribed her after five days of walking around the castle as if she were one of the ghosts. Life was moving on and Mary was getting dragged along with it._

_Simon walked in ten minutes later and gave her a smile—a dopey smile that made her smile too. He sat down next to her and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. He didn’t speak and he watched her finish her breakfast in silence. He was apparently one of the people that didn’t eat breakfast on the weekends either. Mary stood up and he still stayed silent, even after she smiled and forced out a cheerful “Good morning.”_

_They were halfway down the path when Mary thought that something must be wrong. He’d yet to say anything to her, even if he’d grabbed her hand and adjusted her scarf for her. She was going to wait him out, wanting him to be the next to speak, lest she fill the silence with useless words._

_Finally, when they were officially on High Street, he asked, “How are you, Mary?”_

_Mary knew the question was coming. It was the first thing out of everybody’s mouths when they saw her these days. His inquiry seemed a little forced, though—almost as if he knew it was silly to ask._

_“I’m fine,” she responded automatically. “I wish people would stop asking me that and drudging the whole thing up again. It happened, it sucked, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”_

_“Fair enough,” Simon responded easily. “Is there anything specific you want to do today?”_

_“Well, realistically, I need a few more quills,” Mary said, laughing. “Mine have all broke, but I also just want to spend the day with you.”_

_“What I’m about to say might just put a damper on that last bit,” he sighed. “I apologize in advance.”_

_“What’s up?” she asked, dreading the answer a little._

_“Well I’ve got to leave you in a few,” Simon said, not making eye contact with her. “I’ve some business that I’ve to take care of. It hopefully shouldn’t take too long, so I’ll head out when you nip into Scrivenshaft's. Then we can meet back up again in the Three Broomsticks—spend the rest of the day together. Does that sound okay? I know I sort of sprung this on you.”_

_Mary, slightly surprised but not yet upset, shook her head. “No, that’s fine. How long ‘till you have to… do whatever you have to do? What _do_ you have to do?”_

_“I’ve still got a solid hour and a half to spend with you, two if we’re lucky,” Simon replied, smiling. “And it’s nothing you’ve got to concern yourself with. Family stuff. It’s just tedious and boring, otherwise I would’ve asked you to come with me.”_

_“As long as it’s not anything that’ll worry you,” Mary said. “You’ve been stressed lately, and I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”_

_His thin smile worried her, so she reached up to brush a lock of his hair out of his eyes. There was a slight twitch to his fingers that told her he wasn’t telling the truth when he finally said, “There’s nothing to worry about.”_

.:..:.

When they had reached Scrivenshaft’s, they went their separate ways and Mary watched as Simon ducked down a side alley a little way up the road. They had spoken rarely after that, and when they did, Simon was short with her. Mary was happy to have a small break from the horrid silence so she’d taken her time inside the store. She walked quickly towards the Three Broomsticks afterwards, though, nervous about being all alone out in the open. Simon must really have had a lot on his mind because he knew being on her own still freaked her out. Before Mary had begun to worry too much, though, she was pushing open the door to the Three Broomsticks. Simon still wasn’t there, despite her twenty-five minute search for quills.

It had been so long now that she suspected he wasn’t going to come back and she reasoned that she was likely on her own for the rest of the day. Just because he had been driving her a little nuts, didn’t mean that she didn’t want to see him again today. It was mildly upsetting in her opinion. More than mildly, actually, as she had slipped into the loo for a quick cry after the first hour of waiting.

“Where’s our resident wanna-be punk rocker?” Ailana asked, drawing Mary from her self-pity and anger. She was the fifth person to ask this question, but in her defense she’d been absent for the first three and deep in conversation with Marlene for the fourth.

“Sirius would resent that statement, Ails,” Remus said, using the nickname that only _he_ was allowed to say.

“Yes, he would,” James confirmed. “He prefers to be called a _punctual _rocker.”

“He really does hate when people aren’t on time for things,” Peter added, nodding solemnly as if any part of this conversation has made sense.

Ailana huffed. “Where’s Sirius?”

“Off doing Merlin knows what,” James sighed. “I heard him mumble something about a girl, but that’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

“I’m sure we’ll all hear about what he’s been up to when he comes bursting into the common room at midnight,” Peter said, sipping his Butterbeer.

“Yeah,” James said, a wicked glint to his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about his come bursting–”

_“No,”_ Lily interrupted harshly. “Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence, Potter.”

“But that was a good joke!” Ailana laughed.

“It was a _crude_ joke,” Lily said. “Way too crude for Sirius not to be here to back you up.”

“Would you like to hear a fun and _normal _joke, then, Evans?” James asked. “I’ve been thinking up an arsenal of them.”

“He really has,” Peter added. “He scribbled two of ‘em onto my Transfiguration notes, and another on my Charms homework.”

Lily laughed, but it was Emmeline who responded with an affirmative, “Yes, please.”

Mary was smiling, but she wasn’t the only one. If Mary were the type of person to tease someone, and if she didn’t know how much this particular brand of teasing wore on Lily, she would tease her friend for the way she was looking at James right now. Mary didn’t think that Lily even _realized_ that she was doing it, but her eyes were glazed and they were constantly darting from James’s hair to his hands, which were wrapped around his Butterbeer glass. Lily was such a fucking_ goner._

“What do you call a group of unorganized cats?” James asked, looking directly at Lily and grinning. “A _cat-_astrophe.”

Lily snorted and chortled out, “That was horrible.” The smile on her face said otherwise, though. Lily was shaking her head and rolling her eyes fondly. James stuttered over his words for a second and ran a hand through his black hair.

“That’s what you get if you want a normal joke,” James said, indignant. “And besides, that was funny. I don’t care what any of you tossers have to say about it.”

In Mary’s opinion, he cared _very _much about what Lily thought of his joke. When Lily laughed at his response, he ducked his head. He was smiling at his hands and twirling his glass when Emmeline picked up the conversation. Mary watched them, growing more annoyed with her boyfriend the longer she witnessed their particular shy form of flirting. Eventually, she made eye contact with Remus across the table and they both shook their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the long wait in between chapters, life has caught up with me this past month. i hope the wait was worth it!!
> 
> so, the death cap draught is a real potion (apparently), but who knows what the hell goes in it lol. pure speculation on my part. surprisingly, my favorite part about this chapter is snape's pov. i really like the way his internal monologue turned out, hope you guys do too.
> 
> thanks so much for reading, drop me a comment full of your thoughts :))


	11. Blood is Not Thicker than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius gets a couple of letters and sees a long-lost family member. James and Hestia Jones have a conversation and someone remembers something important.

_“We certainly can’t pick our fathers, Mr. Palmer, but the real tragedy occurs when our father’s do not pick us.” – _Dr. Donald ‘Ducky’ Mallard,_ NCIS._

Three Weeks Ago

Sirius had received two letters today, both owls dropping them on top of his breakfast in the Great Hall early that morning. Now, it was the end of the day and he was alone in his dormitory, trying in vain to complete some of his Transfiguration project. The two letters had been shoved into the depths of his school bag right after he’d snatched them off his eggs, and now they sat on his desk, yet to be opened. The stars were twinkling outside of Sirius’s open window and he had goosebumps everywhere, but he didn’t feel anything. He had expected one of these letters to come—he was actually surprised that it had taken months instead of days—but that delay didn’t make him any more eager to read its contents.

Sirius threw down his quill, frustrated and unable to focus. He gave in and grabbed the two letters, situating himself on his bed and pulling the curtains to his four-poster closed. He knew which of the two letters he should open first, but he also knew which letter would likely be kinder to read. He held it in his hand for a full ten minutes, staring at the emblem of the Black family crest in the top corner and running his thumb along the edges before he worked up the courage and ripped it open.

Two things slid out onto his lap, one was a single sheet of paper and the other was something still enclosed in a smaller envelope.

He took a deep breath and folded open the piece of paper, smoothing it on his knee.

> _Sirius Orion Black, _the opening line read.
> 
> _I am writing on behalf of the Black family and their collective estate. Forgoing any preamble, you are hereby disowned. You, and your person, are to no longer be claimed by Mr. Orion and Walburga Black, and you will no longer be recognized as a member of the Black family. You are no longer welcome at Grimmauld Place or any property owned by the Black family. You are barred access to the Black Family vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and no funds are being set up for your future. From now on, all correspondence will go through me, your family representative, Mr. Stanley P. Archibald. All direct links to the Black family are severed and traditional shunning shall begin at the documented date below._
> 
> _::: Monday, 15 _ _ _ _November 1976_
> 
> _Enclosed is a final letter from Mrs. Walburga Black._
> 
> _Failure to adhere to these stipulations will result in consequences._
> 
> _Sincerely, _
> 
> _Mr. Stanley P. Archibald_

Sirius cringed at the formality of the letter. _Who even spoke like that anymore?_ Sirius thought. _Traditional Shunning? What the hell did that even mean?_

Sirius gave a dark chuckle and wiped away a traitorous tear that had run down his cheek. He once again tried to steel his nerves so he could open the second envelope, hating that he knew his mother had written it to him. He didn’t _want_ to hear about how much she hated him, and how much she was disappointed in his choices. His name was written on the front of this letter too, in the looping scrawl of his mother’s handwriting that he used to _envy._

When he was young and still vying for his mother’s love, she caught him practicing his letters in the study at Grimmauld Place. He had one of her handwritten notes open beside a blank sheet of parchment as he tried to copy her writing _exactly_—even trying to perfect the beautiful extra loop she added to her W’s—so he could be more like her. She had sighed when he’d looked up at her— dropping the quill immediately and trying not to look like he was doing anything wrong (which he wasn’t, but he never truly knew)—but then she’d just beckoned him to follow her into her room. For two months after that, she had allowed him to perch on her lap at her vanity whenever she applied her make-up or whenever she would be getting ready for bed, and she’d let him practice his letters with her. She was still a crotchety old bitch half the time, and she had slapped his knuckles with her make-up brush whenever he couldn’t get it right, but it turned into the best part of the day. He’d even grown to look forward to it, and he’d sulk in the drawing room whenever she didn’t invite him along.

Today, his handwriting was still extremely impressive, and it was habit to write in flowing cursive, but he sometimes took pains to write like a slob. It felt like it was a giant “fuck you” to his mother whenever he did that, even if he couldn’t read his notes the next day and teachers sometimes made him rewrite his assignments. On the day that he wrote out every letter _perfectly_ for the first time, instead of rapping his knuckles, she had affectionately smoothed back his hair and sent him to his room. Later that night, she had gifted him with a brand new green quilt, with his name embroidered in gold on the corner.

He pulled that green quilt out from his trunk now, before darting back behind his four-poster’s curtains. The material was a little faded now, and some of the stitching had come loose from the ‘O’ in Orion, but he’d never been able to bring himself to discard it. It was one of the only things he had kept that represented his family—that and his signet ring—and it reminded him of a time before everything was fucked up. That blanket has lived in the bottom of his trunk since second year, hidden from all his friends.

He spread the quilt over his knees and tore open his mother’s letter.

> _Sirius,_
> 
> _This will be the last letter that you ever receive from me. Even though it was ultimately your father’s decision to disown you, I did not attempt to stop him nor did I wish to. We are a proud family, and do not take well to deviations from tradition. You deviated in more ways than one. From here on out, I will lay no claim to you and we will remain on separate sides of the same coin. You will no longer be a Black. You will no longer be my son. As our lawyer said, I cannot legally acknowledge you in any way beginning two days from now; however, seeing as how I transcribed this letter before the Fifteenth of November, you are still my son in this moment._
> 
> _It may surprise you when I say it pained me to write this. You are my son. I birthed you and I brought you up under my tutelage, even if daily care was provided by a house-elf. Producing a male heir was all I was ever taught to do, and it was my only focus. Loving a child was, and is still not, something that I find myself capable of. I instilled the right teachings in your life, I provided you with anything you would need, and I strived to teach you everything that it meant to be a Black. It saddens me greatly that you actively find the humor in my teachings and believe anything other than the fact I always wanted the best for you and our family. You were always a smiling baby that I could never bring myself to discourage from playing with the silverware on the drawing room carpet._
> 
> _I will miss you, my son, even if my actions have seemingly always spoken otherwise. I did try to treat you well, Sirius. You will thrive better outside the clutches of this family._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Your mother, Walburga Black_

Sirius had tears rolling down his cheeks in waves as he finished the letter, his finger lightly brushing over the extra loop on the ‘W’ of her name. There was more affection written in this letter than he had ever been gifted with in the past ten years. Walburga was _always_ a serious person, and her stoicism had brought him to anger more than a few times. Her lack of emotion had always fascinated him before he’d known to fear it. She was a brutal woman, who cursed first and asked questions later. She was bigot. She cared more for a reputation than she did for a living breathing son, no matter what else this letter implied. But she was _his mother._

Being privy to her thoughts and feelings had never been something that he’d been allowed. The only memory that comes to his mind of her exhibiting anything other than stoicism occurred when he was around five years old. He was small for his age, and this was before he’d perfected his letters, but he remembers it more vividly than any other childhood memory of his mother. He had been wandering through the house in search of the old cat they’d use to own, when he’d stumbled upon his mother in the wine cellar. She’d been crying and her back was resting against the far wall with her knees pulled up to her chest when he found her. The closer he’d gotten to her, the more unease he’d felt, but his small mind couldn’t wrap around what he was seeing. He remembers crawling onto her lap and trying to see if his palms fit into the dark splotches on her neck, but she’d flinched away from him and his fingers were too small anyway.

He’d touched gently at the wet tracks on her cheeks, pressing his little hands to her face and not quite understanding what was going on. He remembers looking at his damp fingers, marveling at the fact that it was his _mother’s_ tears coating his fingers. He remembers being terrified, and his own eyes filling with tears. When he’d reached out to touch his own wet checks, his eyes blown wide, his lower lip began to tremble. She had only begun to sob harder after that, and she crushed him to her chest—pressing her tear-stained cheek to the top of his black curls and digging her nails into his robes. They had sat there until he’d fallen asleep, maybe even long after that, and it was the only memory he had of falling asleep in his mother’s arms. He’d awoke the next day tucked into his bed, the gray-haired cat resting near his feet.

As much as Sirius hated and resented his mother, she was still his mother and he missed the idea of her. He sometimes wished that he was still that small boy that was privy to his mother’s affections.

Sirius was sobbing in earnest now, but he immediately tried to hold it back when he heard the door to the dormitory creek open. He flung a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing so whoever it was wouldn’t know he’d been crying.

“Sirius?” Remus called, his voice tentative. Sirius closed his eyes because he knew then that Remus had already heard him.

“Yeah?” he croaked, sniffing and rubbing the back of his hand harshly across his cheeks.

“Can I—uh… can I sit with you?” Remus asked, closer to Sirius’s bed than he was before but not pulling back the curtains.

“Yeah, just—uh, give me a second,” Sirius responded. He hastily wiped his face down with the hem of his t-shirt and stuffed everything back into the envelope before shoving it under his pillow. He tried to settle himself a little, but knew it wasn’t likely so he resignedly pulled back the hangings on his four-poster.

“Hey, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to smile. “I was just coming down to meet with you guys. I can–”

“Shh,” Remus soothed as he sat down. “I sent them off, told them to bother someone else for a while.”

Sirius was just staring at Remus, knowing the pathetic evidence of the past half hour was written plainly across his face and hating himself a little for it. Remus started to mess with the pillows on Sirius’s bed, and Sirius eyed him warily as he settled up against the headboard and stretched out his (very long) legs. Sirius was still sitting cross-legged, perched as far away from his friend as he could. He could feel Remus’s eyes on him, but he continued to stare fixedly at his lap, fiddling with a corner of the quilt that he’d yet to let go of.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Remus asked quietly. At Sirius’s shrug he spoke again. “Or would you like for me to just sit here with you?”

Sirius shrugged again.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No” Sirius whispered immediately.

“Okay,” Remus said just as quietly.

Remus always made things better, and Sirius loved that about him. Sometimes just knowing that Remus wouldn’t force him to talk, like James sometimes did, settled him when he walked into the dormitory after a long day. When he sniffled again, Remus gripped his shoulder hard and then pulled him into a hug a moment later.

Sirius was all cried out, especially since he wasn’t a person who cried in the first place, so he just breathed, soaking in Remus’s scent.

“Remus,” he said into the crook of his neck, hating how small his voice sounded.

“I know,” Remus murmured back.

Before Sirius could process it, Remus had pulled him back against the headboard with him, still holding him tightly. Sirius tensed because they didn’t do this. They didn’t _cuddle_ on dorm beds no matter how much Sirius might want them to sometimes. Sirius lifted his head and furrowed his brow. This wasn’t fair because Remus didn’t know that he preferred men, and Sirius hated the thought that his friend might’ve been comforting him differently if he knew. He began to push himself out of the embrace, not wanting to lead _himself_ on only for it to hurt worse later when it was confirmed that Remus didn’t feel the same way.

“What are–” he began to ask.

“Just go with it,” Remus replied, pushing his head back down. “We can dissect it later.”

Sirius wasn’t going to argue too much, considering this was high on his list of ‘wants’, so he just let out his breath and adjusted his knees, acutely aware of the warmth of Remus’s legs against his. He twisted a hand into Remus’s worn t-shirt, the green quilt now pressed tightly between their torsos. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been lying there when Remus’s thumb started swiping back and forth across his shoulder blade. It was comforting. _Everything_ about this was comforting. From Remus’s smell, to the way his chest rose steadily with each breath… it all felt right to Sirius and he could feel the tension eking out of his body.

Remus’s arm slid to encircle his waist, and when Sirius felt his scarred hand rest easily on the curve of his hip, he had to remind himself to keep breathing. He kept his eyes closed knowing that if Remus were to look into them right now, all these words would come blabbing out of his mouth.

“I’ve been disowned,” Sirius finally said. “I just read through everything they sent me.”

“Oh, Sirius,” he breathed. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius couldn’t help but scoff. _“I’m_ not sorry.”

Remus just hummed and Sirius felt the vibration of the sound throughout his whole body.

“What?” Sirius questioned, propping himself on his elbow and looking down at Remus. Regretfully, he felt Remus’s hand slide from his hip, but at least Remus didn’t move away—their legs still slightly overlapping.

“Nothing,” Remus assured.

“I didn’t _want_ to be a Black anymore, Moony,” he said, indignant. “I’m not sorry about this at all, and I’m glad I left!”

“Just because you’re glad you’re no longer a Black, doesn’t mean that this doesn’t suck for you. It doesn’t mean that you don’t wish it were different,” Remus reasoned.

Sirius felt like yelling all of a sudden, but he was so conscious of popping the little bubble they’d fallen into that he just grit his teeth instead. He was sitting up fully now and Remus had moved too, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on them. It looked like the moment had already been popped.

Sirius watched Remus’s eyes slide to the other letter that had yet to be opened. It was crumpled and almost lost under the fold of the duvet, but Sirius snatched it, having almost completely forgotten that he’d received two letters. Reasoning he couldn’t feel anymore shitty about himself than he already did, he opened it. It was only three lines, telling him a time, a date and place. It was signed by his cousin Andromeda.

He furrowed his brow and shoved the letter into Remus’s chest.

“This is tomorrow,” Remus informed. “When we’re supposed to be in Hogsmeade. What do you think it means?”

“Well she’s one of the only other people to be disowned by the Black family so take it from there,” Sirius shrugged.

“How does she know already?” Remus asked.

“My dad probably put an add in the bloody Prophet,” Sirius replied bitingly. He began gesturing with his hands. “I can see the headline now: _‘Family Now Free of Their Disappointment, Looking for a Suitable Replacement: Mudbloods need not apply’.”_

“You did _not_ just say that word?” Remus asked disappointingly, a hint of anger seeping into his tone.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, impossibly feeling even more shitty. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know. Are you going to meet her tomorrow then?”

Sirius sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Can you not tell anyone though? About Andromeda I mean, not the disowning part. I’d actually prefer if you could tell the guys about the disowning part. Lily too since she’d skin me if she knew she didn’t find out immediately.”

Remus nodded once and rested his hand on Sirius’s knee for three seconds (who’s counting?) before he stood to go to his own bed.

.:..:.

Sirius hadn’t seen his favorite cousin since his first year at Hogwarts when she herself had been disowned by her father. They had something in common now. At least, that’s what he told himself as he was walking down High Street in Hogsmeade to the location she’d specified in her abrupt letter. He was alone today, and it was weird passing Zonko’s Joke Shop without entering it.

He finally spotted a woman in the distance, leaning against the side of the building in a brown traveling cloak. She was very petite and the soft brown ringlets of her hair were blowing in the wind, catching glints of the early morning sunlight. Her hands were stuffed deep into her pockets and as he neared her, he could see the gentleness in her eyes. This was the only thing about her outward appearance that differed from her sister Bellatrix. He came to a stop a few feet in front of her, but stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

“Hello, Sirius,” she said, her aristocratic accent exactly like his.

“Hello,” he replied. Sirius feared the stilted and awkward small talk that was sure to follow. “It’s nice to see you, Andromeda. It’s been a while, but you look good.”

“I am good, thank you.” She smiled. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll be better for it.”

Sirius just nodded, recalling his mother's words: ‘_You will thrive better outside the clutches of this family.’_

“Are you ready to go?” she asked.

“Go?”

“Yes, I’d thought we’d talk back at my home,” she answered. “I thought if I showed you what my life is like, you’d feel less wary of your current situation.”

He stayed silent but stepped towards her when she offered him her arm. “Try not to vomit all over me, now,” she said.

Not a second later, her arm twisted away from him and his body followed it. There was the _horrible_ sensation of compression and breathlessness before his feet landed back on solid ground. He managed to stay upright, but only barely—he had no idea how he was going to learn to Apparate. He was lightheaded and he had to take a second to compose himself, hands braced firmly on his knees, before straightening out.

In front of him stood a quaint little house that looked as though a rainbow had thrown up all over it. Every part of the house was a different color—from the blue door, to the pink shutters, to the yellow front porch steps, and finally the assortment of greens painted on the fence row. There were crumbling vines clinging to the brick, and he let a laugh escape him when he saw that each individual brick was painted a different color. The garden along the side of the house was overgrown and dead because of the cold, but he could almost picture the amount of blooming flowers that would occupy it during the warmer months.

Immediately, he loved everything about this place.

“This is brilliant,” he stated.

“Do you really think so?” She sounded skeptical. “My daughter can _never_ decide on a color so she talked her father into literally all of them. I find it endearingly obnoxious, but she’s got him wrapped around her little finger.”

“You have a daughter?” he asked. “I didn’t know that.”

The smile she gave him then was the softest he’d seen yet. “Why don’t you come in?”

He smiled this time too. “I’d love to.”

The inside of his cousin’s house was much calmer than the outside, the colors all soft pastels. There was the scent of jasmine in the air that made Sirius bite his lip. Everything about this space screamed _‘I am a home! There is love here!’_ There was a small table shoved against one wall with three wooden chairs surrounding it. A small vase full of yellow flowers sat in the middle of it. A spotless kitchen counter wrapped around the wall opposite him, and his eyes snagged on a tall white cabinet that was emitting a whirring sound.

“What’s that?” he couldn’t help asking.

“That,” she said, taking off her cloak and scarf and hanging them on a peg in the wall, “is called a refrigerator.”

“What does it do?” he asked, scrunching his nose. “Why is it making noise?”

“Well, we’ve got electricity here,” Andromeda informed. “Ted’s a Muggleborn and he couldn’t seem to let the telly go when we moved in together. A refrigerator is basically a cooling cabinet that’s not magical, keeps our food and drink chilled.”

“Telly?” Sirius asked. He was feeling more confused by the second.

“It’s a box that plays moving pictures on it,” she explained patiently. “It tells a story. I’ve grown rather fond of it actually.”

“Do you have to buy a new box if you want to see a different story?”

“No.” She laughed. “It shows all kinds of things. You really should have taken a Muggle Studies class at school, or gone out more.”

“My parents wouldn’t let me take it,” Sirius grumbled. “I was still listening to them at the beginning of third year when we picked new classes.”

After removing his coat and clunky boots, he sat down at the table, not sure what else to do with himself. He watched Andromeda bustle around the kitchen and set a kettle to boil. She pulled a clumsily wrapped container from the refrigerator and mumbled to herself.

“Well, I _did_ have some pudding biscuits made, but it seems that they were _attacked_ in the middle of the night by my husband. I reckon there are still enough left to last us till lunch.”

Her strange commentary continued while she worked through the kitchen. She talked about the weather, about the book she was reading, about Ted and the daughter she still hadn’t mentioned by name. The constant changes in topic were sending him spinning. He was grateful when she finally set the tea tray down and sat across from him.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she asked.

“Do you always talk this much?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Do you have any _real_ questions for me?”

He looked down to his hands and pressed his nail into the table. He was still processing the bomb that had been dropped on him last night and he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to know—what he _needed_ to know.

“I do,” he said, looking sheepishly down to his hands, “but I’ve no idea how I’m supposed to go about it.”

“That’s fair enough.” She nodded. “Do you want to hear what I did after I got my letter?”

He knew she wasn’t talking about her Hogwarts letter like so many other people do. It was strange that the situation he was in could be referred to so simply. He nodded his consent, finally looking at her again.

“Well,” she began. “I had just finished my seventh year at Hogwarts, like, two weeks beforehand, when I’d finally decided what I was going to do. I didn’t tell anyone about it, especially not Ted. I went home and brought my parents into the study and I told them that I was going to marry Theodore. I knew they wouldn’t take it well, but I wanted to try and keep a relationship anyway. My mother was _completely_ silent after I broke the news, and my father had stormed out halfway through my explanation. Apparently both of my sisters had been listening through the keyhole because before I left that night, they both confronted me about what I’d said. Bellatrix yelled herself hoarse at me, and Narcissa gave me a hug—she knew that I wouldn’t be seeing her again. Narcissa was always the strong and steady sister.”

Sirius saw real sadness in her eyes then and it stayed there as she continued. The tone of her voice never changed, though, and her eyes stayed devoid of tears. She’d had time to process the choice she’d made, and she was obviously a very strong woman.

“I went straight to Ted’s flat afterwards and told him what I’d done,” she began again. “He was so _angry_ with me. He was afraid that I was going to get myself killed for him, but I just kept telling him that our love was worth it to me and that he was being a little dramatic.”

Sirius snorted.

“Hey, I said a _little_ dramatic, didn’t I?” She chuckled. “Anyway, the next day, we were at his parents’ house. We were telling them that we were planning to get married, and that we wanted it to be a Muggle ceremony. I wanted Ted’s entire family to be able to come, mostly because I knew none of mine would.”

She took a deep breath.

“That’s when the owl showed up. I knew it was my father’s owl as soon as I saw it, and I was resigned to the fact that the contents of that envelope were going to be the last time I’d ever hear from my family. It was still hard opening it, especially in front of Ted and his parents, but I had to know for sure. I couldn’t have waited even if I truly needed to. I had to read it through twice, though, to make sure it was real and I wasn’t hallucinating. I knew I must have gone completely pale because Ted was leading me to the couch and his parents were huddled worriedly on the other sofa. He had to ask me a few times what had happened before I told him.

“The only thing I could think to say was _‘I’m free.’_ I had just been completely disowned and cutoff, but I was so _relieved_ that my family wouldn’t bother us, and that we could be together without anything bad happening because of my parents. I snogged him silly right there in his parents’ living room. His mum and dad were so confused.” She laughed.

“What did you do then?” Sirius asked.

“Well, both Ted and his parents read the letter because I wasn’t making much sense, but then Ted and I just went home.” She shrugged. “I knew that I would miss my sisters, and that I’d likely broken my mother’s heart, but I also knew that I could plan without fear of the future now. Ted and I got married that same summer.”

Sirius envied the wistful smile on her face.

“Both of us had to work like _dogs_ for two years after that, though. We had no money, you see,” she explained. “Ted was lucky though, and he managed to make some major jumps in his career that first year, and soon enough I was able to take on less hours. We could finally start a family like we’d always wanted. Nymphadora was born in August of ’73.”

_“Nymphadora?”_ he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded, unfazed by his incredulousness. “My daughter.”

“Why in Merlin’s name would you give a child a name like that?” He laughed.

Andromeda smiled as if she was asked this question a lot. “Nymphadora means “Gift of Nymphs” or “Gift of Elves”, which ever one tickles your fancy. She’s a Metamorphmagus, so she can change her appearance at will and this plays into some old folklore that Ted and his family come from. It says that fairies used to take children and leave one of their own in its place. That imposter child was called a changeling. We knew that she was a blessing. It’s hard for Pureblood women to get pregnant sometimes—it’s a result of the inbreeding that goes on in the ancient wizarding families. It doesn’t happen to everyone, but it happened to me. When Nymphadora was finally here, and her hair changed from brown to black to white in the span of fifteen seconds, we knew what to name her.”

“Where are she and Ted right now?” Sirius asked. “I’d like to meet them.”

“They should actually be home any minute,” Andromeda said.

As Andromeda continued talking , Sirius noticed how much her demeanor changed as she talked about her family. Her face lit up and her hand gestures got grander, reminding him a little of James. She started moving around the kitchen again, wiping down counters that were already spotless and straightening the now clean tea tray.

Just when her chatter was getting to him again, the front door opened and a young man stumbled over the threshold, a small child hanging upside down in his arms.

The child, who was obviously Nymphadora, had bright yellow hair that was long enough for her father to trip over. She was giggling like a maniac and not the slightest bit fazed that her father might accidently drop her on her head at any moment. She was _completely_ adorable. The man wasn’t too bad looking himself, either. Sirius had always had a thing for scars and there was a decent sized one wrapping around the man’s collarbone and neck. He had dark hair, and a fair amount of scruff leading Sirius to believe shaving is the last thing that’s usually on his mind.

It only took a few seconds for Nymphadora to spot Sirius sitting there. She stopped laughing and began squirming even worse in Theodore’s arms, demanding to be “Down! Down! Down!” He flipped her right-side up and blew a raspberry into her cheek before setting her down and winding her insanely long hair around his hand. He was tugged around the room by his hold on her hair and she decided that Sirius was her next stop on the list after she’d twined her hair around her mother’s knees and touched all the handles on the lower cabinets around the kitchen. She was openly curious and when she reached Sirius she put her hands in the air and said, “Up!” in a surprisingly forceful voice.

Having never held a small child in his life, Sirius used the excuse of shaking Theodore’s hand to avoid the girl.

“You must be the handsome Theodore that my cousin has been droning on about for the last twenty minutes,” Sirius said, offering his hand.

“Please,” the man responded, his voice deep and calming, “call me Ted.”

“Up!” Nymphadora said again, this time slapping her small hands against Sirius’s knees.

Andromeda approached Ted then, gave him a lingering kiss, and then swooped in to pick up her daughter.

“Sorry,” she said to Sirius. “She’s never been afraid of anything, this one. Always wants to make friends with new people. Last week she asked the bagger at the market to pick her up.”

“I take it she likes to be held.” Sirius laughed, sitting back down.

“Well, she actually likes to touch people's faces. She tells us that she wants to ‘be everybody’ so she tries to look like the new person. She usually only manages to change her skin tone and hair color, but that’s why it’s hard to take her to Muggle places.”

“This morning,” Ted began, the biggest grin on his face, “we were looking at a picture book about a Muggle princess with long hair that lived in a tower. And then,” gesturing to the hair still wrapped around his hand, “this is what she decided to do today.”

“And I thought raising a normal child was hard,” Sirius said. As Sirius watched the little girl, she watched him back, tilting her head and pursing her lips. He smiled and instantly—way quicker than he expected—her hair color changed to jet-black and rocketed back into her head. The end result looked exactly like his.

Sirius laughed. “I wish I could change myself so easily.”

He was surprised when the gentleness was gone from Andromeda’s eyes and was replaced with resolute fierceness. It was a startling expression to see on her face because she looked so much like Bellatrix in that moment that he just blinked stupidly at her.

“Do _not_ try and change yourself,” she scolded. “There’s already no chance that they’ll take you back, so you might as well be unapologetically you.”

Today, Monday 6th December 1976

“All we have left to do is finish writing out the theory,” Marlene informed. “And then we—Sirius? Are you even listening to me?”

Sirius jerked, accidently hitting the cup of tea in front of him and only narrowly avoiding _ruining_ their entire Transfiguration project. “Shit, sorry Marls,” he exclaimed. Marlene leaned her head on her hand and looked at him funny.

People have been looking at him like that for a while now, ever since he’d arrived back at school after curfew the day of the Hogsmeade visit. He’d only stayed at Andromeda’s for another hour or two before he’d gone straight to the Leaky Cauldron via the Floo Network in the Tonks’s household. As soon as he’d arrived, he’d downed four Firewhiskey shots in quick succession (ignoring the fact that he had to swipe them from drunk patrons). He’d hobbled across town, getting yelled at by more than one person, in search of the familiar street that would lead him to Donald’s pub. Donald had chastised him thoroughly for showing up half-cocked on cheap whiskey and cigarettes before patting him on the back and feeding him a hot meal. Donald had walked him back to the Leaky Cauldron himself so he could return to Hogsmeade and make his way up to the school.

The detentions he’d had to serve for that escapade didn’t bode well for his already crappy mood, and he had almost pleaded with McGonagall to give him a break, but his pride had won out. When he’d finally told his friends that he’d been disowned, the looks had gotten worse and Sirius was a sick of them. He knew that he’s been unusually quiet these past weeks, but he couldn’t help it. He had _almost_ been okay, or at least back to the place he wanted to be, when that damned letter had arrived and knocked his psyche right back off its tracks. His energy level had been at an all time low and his time with the guys had been lacking; if it weren’t for Quidditch, he’d likely only see James in class or at mealtimes. He surprisingly spends most of his time with Lily because she lets him sit in silence, and doesn’t ask him questions.

She and Remus are alike in that respect, but Remus had been avoiding him since the night of the Hogsmeade visit. Sirius had walked into the common room, fresh from a scolding in McGonagall’s office, and found Remus alone on the sofa. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself because Remus often had trouble sleeping, and reading in the common room was a multi-weekly occurrence. It _was_ weird, though, when Remus sat ramrod straight and said in a low voice, “You smell.”

Sirius had groaned. “I _know,_ and I’m already regretting the drinks. You don’t need to lecture me.”

But Remus had gotten up and crowded Sirius against the back of the couch before Sirius had even blinked. Remus’s eyes had been wide and Sirius had watched him warily, not having a clue what was going on and wondering if he’d actually started dreaming. Remus had then dipped his head and breathed deeply into the crook of Sirius’s neck.

“Remus? What are you–” Sirius had begun, but he’d cut himself off to hold back a groan when Remus ran his nose up the length of Sirius’s neck, settling right by his ear. Remus was so close that his breath sent goosebumps down his spine as it washed over his ear, his lips so close to his skin that Sirius felt the whisper of their touch.

Sirius held the edge of the couch in a vice grip, scared that if he moved he’d break whatever spell Remus had fallen under. As it was, Remus jerked back a few seconds later, mumbled, “You smell nice,” before high tailing it up to the dormitory. He’d been in such a hurry that he’d left both his book and his slippers behind. Sirius remembers picking them up in a haze and trudging after Remus up the stairs. Remus was firmly behind his curtains when Sirius had stumbled in, and his friend hadn’t looked at him properly since. This had sent Sirius spinning because Remus had either found out about his… _secret_ and was teasing him about it, or he was just being particularly annoying.

It could be worse, though, because most of his time seemed to be dedicated to schoolwork and he’d spent almost every night this week in the library with Marlene, agonizing over Transfiguration spells. He didn’t have much time to dwell on other things.

He was tired.

“I heard most of what you said,” he lied. “What was it we have left?”

“The theory,” Marlene repeated slowly. She began talking again.

Sirius closed his eyes and tried to listen.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

James was walking down the corridor towards the Hufflepuff common room with Hestia Jones when it happened. He wouldn’t have known anything about it otherwise, and he’d have been just as surprised as the rest of the school when the rumors started to circulate the next morning. As it were, there was a scheduling conflict for the Quidditch pitch, and he’s spent the last ten minutes arguing with Hestia, who was the Hufflepuff captain, trying to work out a way to fix it. When Hestia first stumbled over nothing, he had poked fun at her clumsiness and they’d both laughed. The second time she did it, she had to steady herself against the wall of the corridor. The smile had then slipped from her face.

“Hestia?” he murmured. He put his hands on her shoulders when the wall didn’t seem to be enough support and she started swaying.

“I-I think that some-something’s wrong,” she stuttered, breathing heavily.

“Here, lean against the wall,” James instructed, pushing her so her back was against the cool concrete. “Hestia, try to breathe and just tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“I can’t—I can’t see!” she insisted. “James, I can’t see anything!”

“What?” he exclaimed, stunned. “What do you mean you can’t see?”

She glared at him, or _tried_ to glare at him. James knew she was well and truly blind when she looked directly over his shoulder and hissed, “What the fuck do you think I mean?”

She then leaned over and vomited all over his shoes.

.:..:.

James spent about an hour in the hospital wing keeping Hestia company while she stared at nothing. While he sat there, he witnessed what looked like half the Hufflepuff House stumble through the double doors of the hospital wing— most of them blank faced, pale, and supported by scared looking friends. Some students were worse off than others and were levitated into the room by frantic looking professors. There were only five or six that walked in on their own, claiming they could see light and blurry shapes. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey had shooed him out and instructed him to get some sleep.

He was moving sluggishly down the hall now, his footsteps dragging but quiet. Loud voices were carrying down the corridor, and James’s natural curiosity overrode his immediate need to faceplant in his bed. He pulled his invisibility cloak over his head as soon as McGonagall and Dumbledore rounded the corner. 

“Albus, you _must_ see reason,” McGonagall implored. She began fiddling with her spectacles. “Something needs to be done about all these attacks. Allowing them to pass by unacknowledged is complicit in the acts themselves.”

“Nothing horrible will happen here while I am Headmaster of this school,” Dumbledore stated calmly.

“Horrible things have _already_ happened, Albus!” McGonagall said, and James was inclined to side with his favorite professor in this moment. McGonagall had pursed her lips and stopped suddenly in the corridor, forcing Dumbledore to do the same. Her eyes were pinched and her frustration about her inability to protect her students was evident in her expression.

“I think we should implement new security measures,” McGonagall stated. She had taken a step back from Dumbledore and clasped her hands in front of her body.

Dumbledore cocked his head. “That would certainly cut down on _wandering_ students, but I do not believe we are at that stage yet.”

James took that as his cue to leave. McGonagall continued stressing her ideas about the security measures she wanted to implement just as James made it out of their line of sight. He didn’t pull the cloak off, though, until he was standing in front of the Fat Lady. As he clambered into the common room, he was surprised to see there were still more than a few people crowded around the dying fire. It took him all of two seconds to realize that Lily was among the group of people and then he spotted Sirius and Remus squashed into an armchair, Peter lying on his stomach on the ground, and Emmeline with her arm around Mary’s shoulders. Ailana had looked up at his entrance and she beckoned him over.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, feeling like he’d already asked that question too many times today.

“Here, sit,” Lily said, moving the pillow she was leaning against and making room next to her on the couch.

He sat wearily, all too conscious that no one had answered his question. One look at Mary’s pale face and Lily’s vice-like grip on the pillow in her lap told him enough. Everyone was eerily quiet and James knew why as soon as Mary started talking again.

“He just passed by me in the library and I _knew_. I _knew_ that it was him,” Mary whispered. “He smelled exactly as I remember—old cigarettes and nasty cologne.”

James looked curiously over at Sirius, who was dramatically sprawled across the lap of Remus, and silently asked him what the hell was going on.

“Mary remembers who attacked her,” Sirius said, shifting his position and causing Remus to bite his lip. James wouldn’t want Sirius sitting on him either.

“Who?” he asked.

“Mulciber,” Lily said from his left. She was sitting cross-legged now and her knee began bouncing against his thigh in agitation. “And I’m also guessing Avery, even if Mary doesn’t remember seeing him. If you’re looking for two blokes, and one of them is Mulciber, then the other is definitely Avery—you don’t get one without the other.”

Lily let out a small sigh, almost a contemplative noise, and was quiet again. She was staring blankly into the fire and the glow of it illuminated her face and hair. James was quickly running out of adjectives to describe her, but he thought she looked ethereal in this moment. Her hair was messy, half of it having fallen out of the knot that she usually pinned it in. One soft tendril was framing her face and James’s hand twitched with the desire to push it behind her ear. He knew that she was aware of his stare because her fingers started tapping out a rhythm along the top of her knee.

She was a bundle of energy in this moment.

“You should go to Dumbledore first thing in the morning,” Emmeline said. “I’ll go with you.”

Mary nodded. “I need to tell Simon, too. Having me remember who it is might jog his memory about it.”

“You can tell him after,” Lily said. “The important thing is that the professors know straight away.”

“You’re right.” Mary sighed. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a _really_ long day.”

At Mary’s declaration everyone else began to follow her lead. Lily stayed where she was and buried her face in her hands. She was shaking a little, her knee returning to its bouncing rhythm. He couldn’t _not_ comfort her in this moment. He placed a hand on her back and rubbed slow circles along her spine. He felt more than heard a shuddering breath leave her. He didn’t say anything, not wanting to remind her that he was the one sitting next to her.

“Gahh,” she groaned, sitting up again. He drew his hand back quickly. She looked at him and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed.

_Breathe,_ he thought.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in Defense, yeah?” she asked. He nodded dumbly. “Be my partner for practice?”

He smiled at her. “Anything for you, Lils.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of, if not the one, chapter that I am most excited for y’all to read. I really, really loved how Sirius’s portion of this chapter turned out, and I enjoyed trying to humanize his mother a little. I hope I achieved a good balance between humanizing her and not erasing the fact that she was abusive towards Sirius. 
> 
> Also, the wolfstar moments?? *chef’s kiss* I hope you guys think so too! I’m pleased with the soft moments they shared together in the dormitory, but my favorite wolfstar scene I’ve ever written is that common room scene. And I didn’t even pull it out of my ass like I usually do: my wonderful beta on ffn, SiriuslyNeville, sent me a link to this video of a wolf going absolutely crazy when they got a whiff of something that smelled like Jasmine. After she’d read that Andromeda’s house smelled like Jasmine, she gave me the perfect idea of mixing up that scene in the common room. Here’s the link to the video if you’re interested:
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/Wolfhavenintl/videos/1753873377994137/
> 
> lastly, peep me trying to add some plot with James’s pov lol. ‘till next time, my loves, and thanks for reading :))


	12. The Relief of a Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marlene has a birthday, and Sirius is frantically dragging his friends all over the place instead of asking them, politely, to follow along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw homophobia /// there are some small mentions of homophobia during ailana and marlene's conversation at the end of Marlene's pov. let me know if y'all want anymore info and i'll be happy to provide it

_“It’s never too late to be who you might have been.” – _George Elliot

The fifteenth of December had finally rolled around and Marlene had awoken to a chorus of _Happy Birthdays_ from her best friends. The real wake up call, though, was Ailana pouncing on her and tickling her until she couldn’t breathe from her laughter. Despite the fact that today was her birthday, it was also a Wednesday, so classes started in an hour and breakfast was waiting.

For the first time in a while, Marlene was headed to the Great Hall with a genuine smile on her face. She felt good today, and that feeling accompanied her throughout her classes. At lunch, the Marauders had belted out a truly _horrible_ rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ that’d made Marlene’s face burn from embarrassment, but then they presented her with a small chocolate cake with smudged icing. She could just make out the word ‘day’, but it had made her smile anyway.

“It’s really all Wormy’s fault,” Sirius defended. “It _did_ say ‘Happy Birthday’, but then he dragged his robes through it and messed it all up. It tastes _fantastic,_ though.”

“He would know,” Remus added with a laugh. “He ate half the raw batter before we could put it in the oven.”

“That’s why it’s so small, you see?” James pointed out.

She had thanked them, giving each one of them hugs over the table, and then lunch had gone on as normal. And Sirius was right because the cake _was_ delicious. She felt like a balloon after she’d only scarfed down half of it.

However, now she was seated in the Potions classroom, enduring a double period of lecture on a horribly hard stool. She was bored out of her mind and her notes had tapered off a while ago, giving way to little doodles and aimless scribbling. Mary kept nudging her, trying in vain to get her to pay attention to Slughorn, but if she had to stop her movements and listen to him drone on any longer, she’d fall asleep. She stuck to doodling.

Marlene let her mind wander back to the events of that morning one week ago while she made the finishing details on her drawing—a whole litter of crups this go around. She had gone with Emmeline and Mary to the Headmaster’s office first thing in the morning after Mary had told them that Mulciber had been the one to attack her. Despite Mary’s weepiness in the dormitory before she’d fallen asleep that night one week ago, she was stoic as she informed the Headmaster of her new-found memory.

Mary had taken Lily’s suggestion to heart about Avery possibly being the second attacker, and she’d told Dumbledore about her suspicions. Dumbledore had commended her for her bravery and assured her that the two Slytherin boys would be punished. Mary had refused to stay in the room while he questioned both Avery and Mulciber, but McGonagall had pulled Mary aside after her first lesson and told her what had transpired.

Apparently Mulciber had confessed to the crime as soon as Dumbledore had asked him if he’d done it, and then he’d thrown Avery under the bus almost immediately. Apparently, he then attempted to backtrack like there was no tomorrow and insisted that he’d actually acted alone. Avery wasn’t forthcoming about any of it, and he’d refused to admit he had anything to do with it.

In the end, Mulciber was suspended. He had been sent home for the holidays a week early, and he would be returning a week late. This gave Mary peace of mind, and Marlene too if she were honest about it. Avery, though, had only received a week of detention because there was no way to _prove_ he’d actually done it.

A large part of the older Slytherins weren’t very happy about this development, and they defended their two classmates’ honor through well-timed hexes in the corridors and an array of tripping jinxes.

On a happier note, most of the Hufflepuffs had been released from the Hospital Wing by now, and there was only one seventh year still under Madam Pomfrey’s care. Marlene had only heard rumors, but apparently his sight had yet to return and the professors and the healer haven’t a clue as to why. All the other Hufflepuffs had regained their sight after Pomfrey had given them the Oculus Potion—everyone _but_ that seventh year. Marlene had even overhead a first year boasting that the potion had given him the ability to see all the way across the Black Lake without binoculars, and there was another third year that insisted he could see through clothes.

At dinner five nights ago, Dumbledore had informed the school that the problem had originated in the Kitchens. He explained that someone had added something to the food at the Hufflepuff table that had caused the temporary blindness and nausea. The last thing Dumbledore had said was that the staff were looking into the matter further, but that it wouldn’t happen again.

Marlene would believe that when she saw it.

At a lull in Slughorn’s lecture, she raised her hand and asked to be excused to the restroom. She didn’t actually have to go, but maybe she’d splash some water on her face, perk herself up some.

Being happy was exhausting.

.:..:.

“Marlene?” Lily asked. They’d been at dinner for a half-hour now, and Lily had just spooned _several_ servings of treacle tart onto her plate. Marlene looked from her friend’s overflowing plate to her face before answering, a smirk on her lips.

“Yes, Lils?”

“You know I love you right?” she asked, tilting her head and looking at Marlene with an odd expression.

“What’s wrong?” Marlene asked sternly. She’d _known_ that this day was too good to be true. The universe was smacking her down for her happiness. Something horrible had happened and everything was going to go back to the way it was a month ago.

“I don’t have your birthday present with me,” Lily said.

The downward spiral that had commenced inside Marlene’s head was halted immediately.

“What?” she responded, a little dumbfounded.

“I owl-ordered something for you, like, a _month_ ago and it hasn’t shown up yet,” Lily replied in a rush. “I do have a present for you, but I don’t _have_ your present for you.”

Marlene, irritated at herself for jumping to conclusions and, if she were honest, a little irritated at Lily for freaking her out, just let out a breath of laughter.

“That’s totally fine, Lily,” Marlene affirmed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to get me anything anyway.”

“But it’s your birthday!” Lily exclaimed. “Everyone’s got you something!”

“They did?” Marlene furrowed her brows.

“Of course we did, you ninny.” Lily laughed. “And I asked Ja—uh, Potter to get us some Butterbeers from Hogsmeade. We’ve got the whole shebang set up in our dorm right now! Why do you think I’m the only one down here eating with you?”

Marlene didn’t want to say that she thought Lily was the only one eating with her because no one else wanted to listen to the professors wish her a happy birthday any longer, so she just shrugged. Even if Marlene had something to say, it would have been startled away when Lily’s eyes widened and she smacked a hand over her own mouth.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that!” she mumbled from behind her hand. “Ailana is going to _kill_ me. Promise me you’ll act surprised?”

Marlene was still a little confused, but she nodded and patted a distressed looking Lily on the arm. Her friend sighed in relief.

“Okay, I’m going to steal this plate of treacle tart, let’s head back to the dorm,” Lily said.

Marlene and Lily were arm in arm, the heaping plate of dessert balanced on Lily’s other hand, when Marlene spotted Andrew a few paces up. She groaned and looked frantically for a place to hide herself, but he’d already spotted her. Lily was looking on curiously.

“Well hello, Marlene,” Andrew called, still a ways down the corridor.

Andrew has been driving her _completely_ up the walls these past few weeks. Ever since she had turned down his offer, or more of a _demand_, for a date in Hogsmeade a month ago, he’d been badgering her constantly. His main conversation starters included, “Why did you say no?” and “Don’t you know I’m rich?” and “I’d plan a really nice date for you,” and, her most favorite, “If you weren’t such a prude maybe you’d have more guys asking you out.”

Marlene didn’t’ respond to him, and she just held a little tighter to Lily’s arm. He usually didn’t need a response anyway. He was self-involved enough to carry a conversation on his own.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” he called.

They’d almost reached each other now and Marlene picked up the pace, not wanting to linger anywhere near him. Lily was walking very quickly, her small stature making her take two steps for every one step of Marlene’s. Marlene was forced to slow down just enough so her friend wouldn’t stumble, and so it wouldn’t look like she was trying to run away from him.

She still hadn’t answered him, and Lily’s expression had gone from curious to wary.

“You’ll say yes eventually.” She was close enough to see his smirk now. “Once you realize that I’m the only guy around here who’ll ever ask you out, you’ll come to your senses.”

Lily gasped, and Marlene watched her friends face redden with anger. “How dare you!” Lily hissed.

“Leave it,” Marlene whispered. She didn’t want this encounter to ruin whatever was waiting for her in her dormitory. She could tell Lily wasn’t happy about her request, but Lily shut her mouth tightly and just glared at him.

“Oh you don’t have to answer,” Andrew said. “Just the fact that I know you’re listening is enough. I happen to like a woman that doesn’t talk. It’s a nice change from the usual nonsense that comes out of your lots’ mouths. I feel just a little better when I know _you’re _aware that I hold all the power.”

Just as they were passing by him, Lily’s plate of treacle tart flew from her hand. She let out a cry as her uneaten dessert splattered all over the ground and Andrew just laughed. Marlene watched as he slipped his wand back up his sleeve.

“What’s _wrong_ with you?” Marlene shouted.

_Really? _she thought. _Was he six years old?_

But scratch that. Even Marlene’s six-year-old sister wouldn’t be that childish.

“Go out with me and I’ll tell you _all_ about what’s wrong with me,” he offered. “I assure you that it’s a long list that I’m willing to bet you could add something to. Maybe it’ll make you feel a little more like a woman, hmm? Telling a person everything that’s wrong with them.”

“Marlene is _twice_ the woman you’ll ever be!” Lily exploded. Marlene cringed.

“Well that much is obvious by the fact that I’m a man,” Andrew drawled.

“_Oh,_ that much is _very_ obvious,” Lily fumed. “Men are notorious for their disappointing attitudes, pathetic come-ons, and overly large egos. You definitely fit the brand, Baskard, so don’t stress yourself.”

Andrew was laughing as Marlene pulled Lily down the corridor and away from him. He called out a cheerful “See you tomorrow!” just before they were out of sight.

“What is that guy’s _deal?”_ Lily complained.

Five minutes later they were almost to the portrait hole, and Marlene hadn’t been able to get a single word in between Lily’s ranting. Before Lily could carry this problem into the common room, Marlene came to a halt and grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her friend to turn and look her in the eye.

“Lily, you’ve _got_ to let this go,” Marlene stressed. “This has been happening for a month. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be ‘used to it’, Marlene!” Lily retorted. “You shouldn’t have to stand for that shit!”

“Okay,” Marlene appeased. “You’re right. Whatever you say, but can we drop it for now? I want to see what you lot have planned for me.”

Marlene smiled, and it wasn’t entirely forced, so Lily nodded.

“I’m really mad about my treacle tart,” she complained.

“I know.” Marlene giggled. “I am, too.”

There was nothing unusual about the common room besides that it was extremely crowded for it still being dinnertime. Lily walked straight to the girls’ dormitory steps, though, so Marlene considered the extra bodies a coincidence. It only took thirty seconds to reach the stairs, but Lily was already out of sight. This made Marlene smile for some strange reason.

As she pushed open the door to her dormitory, there was a loud chorus of cheers, and the word “Surprise!” echoed off the walls and down the steps. Mary and Emmeline were each holding a Butterbeer, and Alice was standing atop one of the dorm beds, wand in hand. She’d showered the room in multi-colored confetti as soon as Marlene had pushed open the door. Ailana was the one closest to her and she was holding a few strings of plastic beads, identical to the ones around her own neck, and her smile was enormous.

“Happy birthday, love,” Ailana congratulated, placing the beads around Marlene’s neck and adjusting them. Ailana was one of the few girls that she knew who was taller than her, so Marlene looked up at her while she hummed a silly tune under her breath and continued fussing over the beads.

“Thanks, Ailana,” Marlene responded. She smiled when Ailana had yet to step back, her hands still moving the necklaces about. “I think they’re fine.”

Ailana laughed and stepped back. She was turning away when she replied, “Of course.”

It was clear that the girls had been lounging on the floor. As Marlene took a seat next to Mary on the hardwood, she’d expected her body to protest, but a cushioning charm had obviously been applied. Every pillow and blanket from the room was piled on the floor between Mary and Emmeline’s beds. Marlene had been smiling almost constantly throughout the day, and the sight of the presents stacked next to the wall and the closeness of all her friends made that grin grow.

They spent most of their night gossiping and Marlene put off opening her presents for as long as she could, but she was too excited to hold out for long. Lily had looked sheepish the entire time, but Marlene was flying high. The gifts were _lovely_ and she couldn’t wait to try out the new Quidditch gloves that Emmeline had given her. She’d put Ailana’s gift on straight away because there wasn’t a universe in which she would leave a charm that pretty inside of a jewelry box or on a nightstand. It was a tiny burgundy Quaffle, and a small golden ‘M’, on a delicate gold chain. She’d thrown her arms around Ailana when she’d opened it and asked her to clasp it for her.

It was just them awake now. Everyone else had fallen asleep right there on the floor, squished in next to each other with arms and legs overlapping. Ailana sat on one end, one leg thrown over Lily’s and the other buried under a blanket. Marlene was cross-legged and she was fiddling with the frilly tassels on the new scarf Alice had given her when Ailana spoke up.

“How’re you?” Ailana asked. “Lily was all red when she came in here earlier and all we could get out of her before you showed up was ‘Baskard is a bastard’. Which is really funny actually, and I laughed when she said it, but anyway, I know he’s been bothering you lately.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Marlene assured.

“You can tell me about it, you know that?” Ailana informed. “I’m not going to judge you or anything. I’ve just been watching you this last month and I’m… concerned.”

“You don’t need to be concerned,” Marlene tried to soothe, attempting to push the conversation in a different direction.

“You’re my friend, Marlene. I care about you so _of course_ I’m going to be concerned. Especially because I _know_ that Andrew actually _is_ a bastard—literally and figuratively.”

Marlene laughed. “It’s not that big of a deal, honestly.”

Ailana just looked at her and raised a single eyebrow. That look always got to Marlene because she’d never been able to achieve that single eyebrow raise. Ailana _knew_ that it would get her talking and Marlene hated to prove her right, but she couldn’t help it.

“He asked me out in Hogsmeade.” Marlene sighed and resigned herself to divulging all her crap. “He was sitting next to me while I was waiting on drinks and he was being, quite possibly, _the most_ annoying person that I’d _ever_ had to talk to. I told him no, of course. He’s a _horrible_ person and he’d make a more than _horrible_ boyfriend.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in here somewhere,” Ailana added.

_“But,”_ Marlene stressed, not believing what was about to come out of her mouth. “No one has ever asked me out before, and it was sort of nice to be noticed for once. I’m always around you guys, and you’re all so pretty and no one ever sees me when they have Lily to look at. Or _you,_ for Godric’s sake. You’re like the gods’ gift to man!”

“I prefer to think of myself as the goddess’s gift to women, actually.” Ailana laughed.

“You know what I mean,” Marlene grumbled, blushing a little and eyeing her friends to make sure they were still asleep.

“Actually I don’t know what you mean,” Ailana contradicted. “You’re _beautiful_ Marlene, and you shouldn’t define your beauty by the amount of people who comment on it. Because _everyone_ notices it, believe me.”

Marlene’s face was burning as she continued, needing not to dwell on _any_ of what was just said. “Well, he asked me out and I said ‘no’ and apparently he doesn’t like to be turned down because he’s been _up my arse_ about it ever since. It’s driving me nuts! Especially because he’s really awful to me in the process and he makes me feel sort of shitty about myself. Which sucks, because I feel bad enough about myself without any of his help, thanks.”

“Do you want me to beat him up? ‘Cause I’ll do it.” Marlene could tell by her face that she meant it too.

“Not yet.” Marlene smiled. “I can handle it myself for now, but if it gets any worse, I promise to call in reinforcements.”

Instead of the smile that Marlene was hoping to draw out of Ailana, she received a frown instead.

“Do you want to hear something crappy about me that’ll maybe make you feel better?” Ailana eventually said.

“Sure,” Marlene replied, rolling her eyes.

“You know all those rumors about me? And how they’re all started by Amira Shafiq? The sixth-year girl from Slytherin?”

“Yeah, I’d have to live under rock not to know about all that,” Marlene said, chuckling.

“Yeah—okay, I know you know.” Ailana took a deep breath. “Well Ami starts all those rumors mainly because her parents are shit, but the other reason is that she kissed me in the middle of fourth year. She had been flirting with me for _forever _and I finally told her that I liked her, and that I thought she was really pretty, and was wondering if maybe she’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me one day? She said yes and then she kissed me. Like _really_ kissed me. She was my first kiss and it was honestly everything that I could ever hope for in a first kiss.”

“How did you get from there to here?” Marlene wondered.

“Well, we went to Hogsmeade together and everything was great. I didn’t tell any of you guys because she didn’t want me to. I mean, everyone has known that I’m gay since I was, like, _six_ and I’m never shy about the fact that I like women, but I understood. People are in different situations and people, I don’t know, _‘come to terms with it’_ at different times. Which is sucky wording, but I understood her. She wasn’t out yet, and she wasn’t ready for anyone to know about her being gay, so I agreed with keeping it a secret.”

Ailana’s eyes grew wide. “Oh Godric, Marlene. You _can’t_ tell _anyone_ about this, okay? She still doesn’t want anyone to know, so _promise_ me you won’t out her!”

“Shh,” Marlene breathed eyeing their sleeping friends again. “I promise. I’d never do that to someone, even if she does say horrible things about you.”

“Okay,” Ailana breathed, obviously very relieved. “I just realized that I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. I mean just because I, you know, sort of hate her, doesn’t mean that I didn’t care about her once. But it’s just—it’s sort of nice to finally tell this to someone, even if I shouldn’t and–”

“Ailana,” Marlene cut in. “Breathe, alright?”

Ailana closed her eyes and did as instructed. “Right. Okay. Anyway, we hung out with each other through the rest of fourth year and it was g_reat._ Like, really fantastic, you know?”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “Actually I don’t know, but I can imagine.”

“And even over the summer we still met up a few times. Then fifth year came around and it only took a month before she got a letter from her parents. Apparently her older brother had written home about her and told them that he was worried about his little sister spending so much time with ‘someone like me’. She was really upset when she was telling me all of this, and then she said we needed to stop seeing each other because she didn’t want her family to find out about us. I was confused because there’s a difference from being scared and nervous to tell your family something, and being purely terrified about it.

“And she was _terrified._ She wouldn’t even look at me while she was telling me this, and I tried to comfort her and reassure her that everything would be okay when she just started screaming that everything was my fault. Her being gay was my fault. And her brother writing home was my fault. Basically, everything that was going wrong in her life was my fault. She went from being someone that I really cared about_ a lot_, and saw _everyday_, to someone that I didn’t even recognize.”

“Ailana,” Marlene breathed. She had known that something had been going on at the end of last year, but she didn’t expect this.

“The rumors started a week later and she was avoiding me completely. At first, I thought she was just trying to throw her brother off our scent, but then the rumors started being _really_ cruel. And I’d been dating her for almost six months so she knew a whole bunch of stuff about me, and she knew _exactly_ where to hit to hurt the most. Sometimes she still tries to talk to me, and I remember what it was like when we were together, but then all the horrible things she’s said about me come flooding back.”

“Ailana, I’m so sorry,” Marlene consoled. “She has no right to do that to you. Even if you hadn’t had a history with her, what she’s said about you would be horrible, but this… this _sucks_, girl.”

“Well I’m over it,” Ailana said, though she clearly wasn’t. “And now you know that we both have crappy situations in our life.”

“My crappy situation doesn’t even compare to yours.” Marlene shook her head. “I’ll have to give Andrew some more material to work with so I can even the score.”

This got a smile out of Ailana just as Marlene was hoping that it would.

“Plus, Ami’s just jealous that you never hide who you are,” Marlene added. “I don’t have a clue what she’s going through, but she could have asked you for help instead of throwing you under the bus like she did. There were a ton of other ways that she could have handled her situation.”

Ailana didn’t respond for several minutes, and they just sat there. Mary let out a quiet cough and both Marlene and Ailana gave a little jump. Eventually, Ailana curled up next to Lily on the floor and closed her eyes. By the looks of it, her confession had really worn her out. Marlene sighed, and wished her goodnight. She waved her wand and the remaining lights in the dorm winked out. As they were lying there in the darkness, she heard Ailana mumble into her pillow, “I’m going to kick Baskard’s arse tomorrow, by the way—even though you said not to.”

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Buying Christmas presents had never been something that Remus was good at. The main concern was that he was poor, and didn’t really have the spare coins to spend on presents. His other concerns were that he’d buy something and his friends wouldn’t like the gift, or they’d buy _him_ something really nice and expensive that he couldn’t reciprocate, _or,_ the worst one yet, he couldn’t find anything at all and didn’t even _give_ his friends gifts. It was the last Hogsmeade trip before winter break began, and he was walking around the village on his own, having ditched his friends so he could purchase said presents.

It was two days before the full moon so he was keenly aware of his tiredness and the aches in his lower back and knees. Both Sirius and James had protested him going off on his own, but they never pushed him on this front so he just ignored them. Their concern was appreciated, but not needed. He’d been living like this since before he could remember, so he was well-acquainted with how much his body could handle.

Despite his worries about gifts, he found something for James, Peter, Lily and Ailana fairly quickly. An hour later, he’d purchased something for his parents, Marlene, Alice, and Emmeline and he was _still_ under the budget that he’d set aside for himself—kudos to second hand shops. The only person he couldn’t seem to find anything for was Sirius. Nothing that he’d seen in any of the stores had snagged his attention. Everything was too plain or too small or too expensive. He was just resigning himself to the fact that he’d have to give it up for the day, when he saw it, tucked away on a shelf in the antique store. He picked it up and paid for it immediately. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, but it was perfect and he set off to meet his friends.

Today was one of the coldest days since Remus had been back at Hogwarts. He was shivering in his worn jacket, the warm wool mittens that his mum had made him were covering his hands, and he had his school scarf wrapped up over his nose and mouth with his hat pulled low over his ears. When the blessed warmth of the Three Broomsticks washed over him, he let out a shiver. He knew cold weather made his joints stiff, but going immediately from freezing cold wind to a sweltering pub with a crackling fire wasn’t much better. It always gave him chills.

He spotted his friends immediately, packed in around the corner booth in the back that they always claimed. The majority of his friends didn’t want to brave the frigid weather, however, so they were still nestled up in the dormitories, likely drinking hot chocolate and making Remus jealous that he’d put off his Christmas gift buying for so long. Only Sirius, Ailana, Lily, and Emmeline had braved the cold. There was an unfamiliar face seated next to Emmeline, though, and Remus eyed the bloke as he walked towards the table, taking off his mittens and unwinding his scarf as he did so.

This unnamed guy was quite handsome—_really_ handsome, if Remus were being honest. He had dark skin, almost like Ailana’s, and he had crazy blue eyes underneath his dark eyebrows. Remus had always preferred grey eyes, but this man’s eyes were extremely striking. Remus was still staring at them as he sat down next to Sirius on the bench opposite the stranger.

“And who’s this?” he asked casually and in greeting.

“This is Miguel!” Emmeline informed, a smile on her face. “We met over the summer while I was in Italy, and he’s going to be in England for the holidays. Miguel, this is Remus, one of my friends that I was telling you about.”

Remus nodded at him. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

His friends picked up their conversation where they’d left off and Remus just tried to catch up. Sirius nudged his arm and pushed a mug of something in his direction. Sirius nodded towards the drink when Remus had yet to take it, so Remus lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip. Sweet hot chocolate flooded his mouth and Remus moaned a little. He loved the hot chocolate from the Three Broomsticks, and he was surprised that Sirius remembered this fact.

“Thanks,” Remus whispered, not wanting to interrupt everyone else’s conversation.

“Of course,” Sirius whispered back.

Remus had been avoiding Sirius for a while now—ever since the night after their first Hogsmeade trip of the year. When Sirius had first walked in, all Remus had smelled was booze and cigarette smoke, but then he came a little closer and it hit him. He wasn’t sure what the smell was, and he still couldn’t place it exactly, but the second the enticing scent had reached him, his mind went completely blank and his body began running on pure instinct and adrenaline. The full moon had still been over a week away, but he was convinced that the… _other_ side of him was the reason for his strong reaction. Remus wasn’t even sure what had been happening until all of a sudden, his nose was buried in Sirius’s hair and all he could think of doing was kissing his way down his best mate’s neck. He had jerked away so fast that he’d almost fallen over. He didn’t even brush his teeth that night because he dove behind his curtains as soon as he’d entered his dorm room.

Sirius had yet to bring the whole incident up, and Remus _definitely_ wasn’t going to be the one to do it first. He knew that Sirius was aware of his avoidance, but he still managed to make his presence known whenever he was in Remus’s general vicinity. Like last month when Sirius had sprawled himself across his lap in the common room and refused to budge. (Remus believed he should receive a medal for the amount of restraint he’d shown that night, as not even his hands had strayed from their resting places on the armchair. Honestly, Remus should receive something just for compensation of all the disgusting things he’d had to think of just to avoid the thought that Sirius Black was quite literally in his lap.) Or like now, for instance. Remus was acutely aware of Sirius sitting right next to him. Their shoulders brushed whenever Sirius shifted on the bench, and Remus could feel his face getting hot.

He _couldn’t_ have a crush on his best friend (even if literally all the signs were pointing in that direction). Especially when said friend had never given him any indication that he even liked blokes. At least, Remus didn’t think that he did. It wasn’t even until the day that Sirius found out he’d been officially disowned that he’d even _thought_ of his friend like that. Sirius was sitting there, his face blotchy and his nose stuffed, and all Remus wanted to do was hold him while he cried. He’d told Sirius that they could talk about that later, but then the weird smelling thing happened and it was never brought up again.

Hiding his feelings sucked, but sharing his feelings and looking like an idiot sucked even more.

Sirius nudged him and Remus jumped, illogically thinking that Sirius knew what he’d been thinking about, but his friend only asked him to move so he could use the loo. Remus got up quickly, which gave him a head rush because he hadn’t ate yet today, and Sirius slid out of the booth. Just before Remus could slip back into his seat, Sirius grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the toilets.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, tripping over a chair and almost sending himself sprawling. “Wait, stop—slow _down_ Sirius, good Godric.”

But Sirius didn’t slow down until they’d reached the restroom, and even though Remus’s knees were protesting him and he could have easily pulled his arm from Sirius’s grip, he allowed himself to be dragged along. Sirius locked the door behind them after checking under the stall doors to make sure they were alone. Remus stood in silence this whole time, deeply confused and more than a little freaked out.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sirius asked, blunt as usual.

“What’s wrong with _me?”_ Remus responded. “You’re the one who dragged me into the loo and locked the door! It’s me who should be asking you that.”

“No, you’ve been avoiding me for _weeks_ and I want to know why,” Sirius stated, his grey eyes flashing with an emotion that Remus couldn’t decipher. “Is it because I got snot all over you the night I got disowned? Or is it because you went all weird and tried to feel me up in the common room while I was a little drunk?”

“I didn’t try to _‘feel you up’_, Sirius,” Remus sighed. “I was just—and I’m not _really_ avoiding you…”

“Yes, you are _‘really’_ avoiding me,” Sirius retorted, and it was anger in his eyes this time. “You haven’t spoken directly to me in weeks! And I’ve been trying to get your attention out there for ten minutes to talk about how full of shit everything is that comes out of that guy Miguel’s mouth!”

“I didn’t notice,” Remus mumbled.

“‘You were just’ what?”

“Now I’m really lost,” Remus replied, trying to rub the tiredness from his eyes.

“You said you weren’t feeling me up, and that ‘you were just…’”

“You smelled nice,” Remus mumbled, his face aflame and his hands clammy. He was also convinced that Sirius really _had_ been reading his thoughts earlier.

“Bullshit,” Sirius laughed half-heartedly. “I smelled like a brewery and smoke shop. That’s not usually a _nice_ smell, Moony.”

“No,” Remus protested. “There was something else. I don’t know what it was, but apparently my… um, _other_ side really liked it. Plus I was tired, and I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. He was blushing now too, and Remus tried _very _hard to not think about how breathy his little ‘oh’ had sounded.

“And I’m not avoiding you, Padfoot,” Remus assured. “Really, I’m not. I was just worried that you’d be freaked out by what I did. and I was embarrassed to talk about it. I _never_ talk about how the wolf part of me affects the human part of me, but apparently this is one of the ways. It was a fluke and it won’t happen again, honest.”

“Remus, you don’t—”

_‘Bang, Bang, Bang.’_

Both Sirius and Remus jumped when someone started banging on the locked bathroom door. Remus darted to it and unlocked it immediately. He apologized to the rather gruff looking man standing there and walked quickly back to the table. He sat back down just as Miguel was finishing a story about him hiking to the top of the Apennine Mountains without any provisions. It took Remus all of two seconds to realize that Sirius was absolutely right. This guy was full of crap.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Forcing himself to go back to the table was one of the hardest things Sirius had ever done. His feelings for Remus had snuck up on him. He’d always known that his friend was attractive, and that he usually preferred to be around him than anyone else, but today was the first time that he’d actually been _really _confronted with said feelings. Lying with Remus on that dorm bed was one thing because they hadn’t talked about what they were doing. And Remus being so close to him that night in the common room, and all Sirius wanting was for him to just _kiss_ him, was also just something that happened. But actually standing in that bathroom, discussing how Sirius _smelt_ and how that _affected_ Remus_,_ was a different thing entirely. Remus’s beet red face and clumsy words had sent Sirius’s feelings in a spiral.

He had a crush on one of his best friends. A _massive_ crush.

As soon as he reached the table and heard Miguel boasting about the amount of fruit he’d sold in a single day, he knew he couldn’t stay there. He needed to talk to someone about this. He needed to talk to James, even if the thought of saying what he was thinking out loud made him nauseated.

“I’m going to head back,” Sirius informed, grabbing his coat and things from the seat. “I promised Prongs that I’d help him come up with some new plays for the next Quidditch match.”

“Okay, do you want me to come back with you?” Ailana asked, looking back and forth between him and Remus as she did.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Sirius assured. “Stay and finish your Butterbeer. I’ll see you lot back up at the castle later. It was—er, nice to meet you Miguel.”

Sirius didn’t wait for anyone to respond, he just started for the door. He walked to the castle in a haze, not believing that he was actually going to do this, but knowing that it felt right—finally, it felt right. He tracked snow almost all the way up to Gryffindor tower, but he couldn’t care less about what Filch would think of the mess. His assumptions about James being in the common room were correct. He and Peter were sat in front of the fire, playing a game of Wizarding Chess, when Sirius marched right up, grabbed ahold of his friend’s arm, and pulled him up. He was dragging around a lot of his friends today, so why stop and be polite now?

James caught on quicker than Remus, and he shook off Sirius’s hand, following him up to the dormitory with a friendly “Be right back!” thrown over his shoulder for Peter’s benefit. Sirius let James in through the dormitory door first, and then he locked it behind them. As added security, he also took out his wand and cast a silencing spell on the room.

Out of all the conversation starters running through his mind, he really did blurt out the one that made the least amount of sense.

“I _don’t_ have a crush on Marlene,” he stated.

“Er… okay?” James acknowledged. “Is that why you look as pale as death incarnate? Because you don’t fancy McKinnon?”

“Do you know _why_ I don’t fancy Marlene?” Sirius asked, his heart beating a mile a minute inside his chest. It was so loud that he was sure James could hear it.

“I don’t know, maybe because she’s, like, _two_ heads taller than you?” James smiled.

“No. I don’t have a crush on Marlene because she’s a _girl_, James.” The blood was rushing through his ears and all he could see was James’s confused face. “She could be two heads shorter than me and it wouldn’t matter because she’s a girl, and I’m gay.”

His friend was silent for a minute before he started laughing. Sirius’s stomach dropped as he waited to hear what James had to say. Sirius was unfoundedly expecting to be told that he didn’t know what he was talking about. That he’d get over it. He knew his expression displayed every horrible thing he was feeling, but all James said was, “Can you imagine Marlene _two_ heads shorter than you? She’d be the size of a ten-year-old!”

James was laughing now, and it was Sirius’s turn to be confused.

“I tell you one of my biggest secrets and _that’s_ what you focus on?” Sirius asked, more than a little exasperated.

“I’m sorry,” James smiled. “Sorry mate. But okay, that’s cool.”

_“Cool?”_ Sirius said, not believing that this was how this was going down.

“Yeah, ‘cool’,” James shrugged.

“Did you know then?” Sirius accused. “Is that why you can only say ‘cool’?”

“No, I didn’t have any idea,” James assured with another shrug. “But you’re still you. The only thing that’s going to change is I’m _obviously_ going to stop accusing you of fancying McKinnon, and then thinking you’re full of shit when you say that you don’t.”

“Yeah what was with that by the way?” Sirius asked. “Why didn’t you ever take my word for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” James shrugged again. “I just see the way that she looks at you, and I figured you were just too chicken shit to do anything about it.”

“Marlene has a crush on me?” Sirius asked, feeling as though he were in an alternate dimension.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know.” James laughed. “I mean, I guess I didn’t really notice at first either because Remus was the one who pointed it out, but yeah, she likes you.”

James’s casual mention of Remus snapped him back into the mindset he was in when he’d walked into the castle. Remus. He needed to get someone’s advice about his feelings, and since James was the _king_ of pining, he was a good person to ask.

“There… there was a reason that I suddenly decided to tell you all of this,” Sirius said. He sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled out the small green quilt that he’d taken to keeping under his pillow. “I need to ask you something.”

“Alright, shoot,” James coaxed.

“I have this… crush on someone,” Sirius began after taking a deep breath. “And this someone wouldn’t like me back because they’re likely straight and not even into blokes at all. But let’s say, hypothetically, that this person has done some stuff that’s definitely _not_ straight people behavior. But _then,_ he completely writes off everything that could be placed in the ‘not-straight’ category as a fluke, and says that he was tired, or not even _aware_ of what was going on nor aware of what he was doing.”

James sat down beside him. “Do I know this person?” he asked.

Sirius took a second to answer, which was an answer in itself. Still, he only said, “Maybe.”

“Okay, I’m just going to take one guess, _just one,_” he stressed when Sirius opened his mouth to argue, “and if I’m wrong, I’ll never mention it again—well, until you mention it yourself.”

“Fine,” Sirius agreed. “But just _one._”

“Is it… um, well,” James stuttered.

_“Oh,_ just _spit it out,_ James.”

“Is it Remus?” his friend said in a rush.

After a moment, Sirius whispered his confirmation. “Yes. Am I really that obvious?”

“No, it’s just now that I know you like blokes, a whole bunch of pieces just sort of fall into place.”

“What do I do, James?” he asked, his voice pleading.

“Honestly, mate,” James said, “I’d talk to him about it.”

“I just _tried_ to talk to him about it in Hogsmeade and he practically bolted as soon as he had the chance. Any other advice—_useful _advice—would be appreciated, mate,” Sirius drawled drily.

“Well maybe he’s just nervous? Maybe he fancies you too and he’s not ready to say anything about it?” James mused.

“Don’t make me laugh!” Sirius barked. “He has had a _great_ many chances to make some sort of move, and he’s never made any sort of attempt.”

“You sure about that?”

Sirius thought of how Remus initiated both the ‘cuddling thing’ and the ‘common room thing’, which are the only two instances that immediately came to his mind. But those are also the two instances that he explained away just now in the toilets at the Three Broomsticks. Nothing else he could think of would even remotely compare to that. He was almost sure that Remus didn’t reciprocate his feelings. The thought of it had probably never even crossed his mind.

“Yeah Prongs, I’m sure,” he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! i hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, particularly the part where sirius comes out to james because that was a joy to write. while writing this chapter, i consistently felt like that meme of a goose holding a knife and it says, 'looking for homerotic subtext, and if i cannot find it, i will create it.' jdksjd
> 
> on a different note, the coronavirus is taking over my life. all my classes are online, my college graduation/commencement is cancelled, and i'm losing my mind in all my 'social distancing.' hopefully, this will give me some more time to write fic and read some of my tbr, but looking on the bright side of this mess is a little hard. 
> 
> anyway: drop me a comment or a kudos, have a good day, and wash your hands!


	13. Lily and Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Evan's household have a visitor for some of the Christmas holiday's. Bridal dress shopping, french speaking, and a certain conversation ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws chapter at you all and _runs_*

_“We all have one foot in a fairytale, and the other in the abyss.” – _Paulo Coelho

The dark road was illuminated under the headlights of Edward Evans’s truck. The evening downpour had coated the asphalt in a sheen of water, and the wind blowing through the open window as they cruised down the street was biting. It was still the middle of December, but her window was too dirty to see out of properly with it closed, and she hadn’t drove through her home town since August. The lights of the store fronts flickered by in a study rush, and her dad was humming along to _Dancing Queen _on the radio.

It’d been two days since Lily’s parents had picked her up from King’s Cross. She’d spent today with her father, shopping for Christmas presents together like they’d been doing for as long as she could remember, and now they were finally on their way home. Mrs. Potter and Sirius were supposed to be arriving in twenty minutes.

Yesterday, Sirius had sent her a letter asking if he could stay at her house for a few days. James’s only living grandmother had fallen ill a couple of weeks ago, and she had just passed away yesterday—hence Sirius’s letter. He’d assured her that James and his parents were perfectly okay with him attending the funeral with them, but Sirius said that he felt weird about it, having not ever met the woman in his life. And apparently, both Remus and Peter couldn’t have him for the almost-week, so that left her.

Lily was more than happy to do it, but convincing her mother to agree was a different story. Lily had spent all morning and afternoon insisting to her mother that they needed to help him out, and she eventually came around by nine o’clock that same night. She promptly went all a titter about having a guest to pamper and set out to dust every crevice of their home before she went to sleep. Petunia, on the other hand, had fumed and stormed about the house in a rage after Rose had said yes. She was insisting that Lily was determined to _ruin_ her wedding. There were plans to go to the bridal shop in three days time, and now Sirius was going to be there. Lily was ecstatic that she’d have a friend to balance out her mother and sister’s… _exuberance_ over wedding planning. And she was sure Sirius would be a great addition to picking out a style of dress.

Lily regretfully rolled up her window as they pulled into the driveway. Her father was already at the door with a mountain of bags on each arm, half of them groceries. Lily was just grabbing what was left when there was a loud crack of Apparition, and she watched her father drop a couple bags in surprise. She heard Sirius’s voice float out from the alleyway across the street, sounding just as boisterous as he usually did. They were only lit by the glow of the streetlights, but the shadow of Sirius’s long hair was unmistakable, and she assumed the tall silhouette next to him was Mrs. Potter.

“Oh goodness,” the woman said, catching sight of Lily and her armful of bags. “Let me help.”

She waved her wand and all the bags began levitating themselves towards the door—Lily looked around quickly, keenly aware that she was surrounded by Muggle homes, but there was no one around and her neighbor’s curtains were firmly shut for the night. Mrs. Potter flicked her wand again and the bags in her father’s hand also began levitating.

“You’ve certainly bought a lot” The woman laughed. Her face was still in shadow, but she had a very warm voice.

“Hey, Red,” Sirius greeted, slinging an arm over her shoulders. He began pulling her towards the front stoop and then in through the front door, following a row of levitating reusable shopping bags and passing by her rather dumb-struck looking father.

“Your home is _lovely_,” she heard Mrs. Potter gush from the kitchen, likely speaking with Lily’s mother. “I’m Euphemia Potter, but please, call me Mia.”

She heard the soft tinkle of her mother’s voice in reply, but Lily was too busy taking her shoes off and making sure not to track in a mess that she missed what was said. She gestured for Sirius to do the same.

“You’re early,” she said.

“Yeah, Mrs. P was pretty impatient to meet you,” Sirius laughed. He leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You’re rather infamous around the Potter’s home, as James hasn’t shut up about you since first year.”

Lily blushed slightly, but smiled and looked to see her mother and Mrs. Potter walk back into the entryway.

“You must be Lily Evans.” Mrs. Potter smiled, hugging Lily before she’d even processed the woman’s features. “I’m Mia. I’ve heard so many great things about you.”

Pulling back from the hug, Lily took stock of James’s mother. Mrs. Potter was a tall, sturdy woman, whose robes looked to be _very_ expensive. Her hair was shoulder length with wisps of red hidden amongst the grey. Lily had caught glances of this woman at King’s Cross, but she was still surprised to see how old she looked. There were lines on her face and her veins were very prominent on her hands. Despite her obvious age though, she looked very kind, with warm eyes and a dimple in her left cheek. She could see where James got his looks from because Lily could picture this woman as the _beautiful_ young woman that she must had been.

“Yes, I’m Lily,” she confirmed. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Potter.”

_“Please,_ call me Mia,” Mrs. Potter smiled. “I’m very grateful that you’ve welcomed Sirius into your home for these next few days.”

She was clearly speaking to Lily’s parents now, and Lily could hear hints of her Pureblooded upbringing slipping in through her formal speech.

“He knows that he could have come with us, but funerals are weird enough without the fact that he’d never met Monty’s mother.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Lily’s father said from behind her. “I’m Edward Evans, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Mrs. Potter said, giving her father a very firm handshake. “Well I must go, our Portkey to India leaves soon. Now don’t give this family any trouble, young man.”

She gave Sirius a very stern look and he adopted a _‘who, me?’_ face that made Lily smile. She pulled Sirius into a hug and then gripped him by the shoulders, holding him at arms length and looking him in the eye.

“You write if something happens and I’ll come home straight away,” Mrs. Potter said.

“Relax, Mum, they’re not going to _maim_ me,” Sirius smirked. “I’ve already left the house that did that, remember?”

“Yes, I know, love,” Mrs. Potter smiled sadly, touching his cheek gently. “Don’t blame me for worrying about you, though. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Mrs. Potter turned to give them one last nod of farewell, but her attention snagged on the puddles of water that she’d tracked into the kitchen. “Dear, me,” she mumbled, waving her wand and vanishing the mess. “I’m sorry for the mess.”

Lily’s mother looked stunned. “It’s no worries. I wish I could do my cleaning that quickly.”

And with that, Mrs. Potter swept from the house as gracefully as she’d entered it.

.:..:.

“Nope,” Sirius said, popping the ‘p.’ “I have very horrible memories of riding in these… _things.”_

“It’s a _truck_ Sirius,” Lily groaned. “We have to be at the bridal shop in an hour, and I don’t trust you not to… I don’t know, _burn the house down_ because you’re curious about the light switches.”

Lily thought she heard him mumble, ‘it doesn’t make sense,’ about electricity under his breath. This battle had been ongoing for five minutes, and she finally lost her patience and forced him into the backseat, her mother giggling from the driver's seat and Petunia looking pained from the passenger side.

Today they were looking for a wedding gown for Petunia and Lily was getting her fitting for her bridesmaid dress. They were meeting the rest of the wedding party at the shop, and it was meant to be a girls day, full of champagne and a fancy dinner. Those things would still be happening, of course, but Sirius’s presence had put a damper on Petunia’s idea of the “perfect day.” Lily’s mother insisted that he tag along despite Petunia’s hatred of the idea because Lily had explained in great detail all the ways that Sirius’s curiosity could get the better of him and the house would be no more. It was a short conversation in the long run, and her mum wasn’t hearing any of Petunia’s protests.

As they were pulling onto the main road, Sirius still grumbling beside her as he tried to work the seatbelt, her mother asked, “Why do you have horrible memories of vehicles, Sirius?”

“Well the first time I rode in one, it was fine really, except that my father was _not _pleased when he saw me hop out of it on the curb. Not a big fan of anything to do with Muggles, him.” Sirius laughed. “One time, I was slightly, just _slightly,_ intoxicated and that was terrifying. Oh, and let’s not forget about the time I almost bled out in the back seat of one of those—what do you call ‘em? Ah, yeah, a taxi!”

He said this very quickly and very matter-of-factly, and Lily gasped out a, “Sirius!” in warning of him possibly sharing too much.

“What?” he shrugged, entirely unaware of the bulge of her mother’s eyes and the loaded glance the woman had exchanged with Petunia. “It’s true! You’ve seen the scar. Really, it was some of my mother’s best work.”

She wanted to elbow him sharply in the gut, but he turned to her, confused, and asked, “Do you _not_ tell you parents all about your friends?”

She shook her head. “No. And this wasn’t really my story to share in the first place. I thought the secret was supposed to be—I don’t know, under lock and key.”

“That’s funny,” he laughed. “James tells his parents everything, and they’re the only normal family I’ve ever been around, so I thought that’s what people did.”

“It sounds like your family’s a real piece of work,” her mother added, making a sharp turn onto another road.

“That’s one way of putting it, Mrs. Evans,” he drawled. “But I’m freshly disowned and _apparently_ they can prosecute me if I ever lay claim to them as family, so I’m placing them rather firmly in the ‘past’ portion of my life. They can be a ‘real piece of work’ to someone else.”

The rest of the drive to the bridal shop was silent, but for Sirius’s constant questions about the things both inside the truck and outside of it. He got stuck on the actual mechanics of the vehicle that no one could answer and then just started blurting out theories. Ranging from how the truck is run on oil like the lamps at Hogwarts (which Lily was able to confirm was somewhat true), to how he could probably make it work with _only _magic. He was very charming, and her mother seemed rather taken with him as they bounced ideas off of each other about some non-existent motorbike that Sirius insisted he was going to own someday. Lily actually laughed when her mum said the whole bike should be able to disappear whenever you wanted it to.

They were still laughing with each other when they pulled into the parking lot across the street from their destination. As they were walking to the shop, Lily was (trying not to) lecture Sirius about how he should behave around Muggles.

“Believe it or not, Evans, I happen to be very intelligent,” he said, holding a hand to his chest and looking towards the sky. “I also have no interest of getting expelled from Hogwarts for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. Turns out I need an education now since I’m no longer lounging on _buckets_ of gold.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry you’re poor,” Lily mocked.

They laughed together. She was happy to see that Sirius was actually acting as she was used to seeing him. Making fun of his situation was much more Sirius-like behavior than him walking around as if he were a ghost. He’d been gradually getting better for a month now, and Lily didn’t think that the timeframe was a coincidence. She thought that him getting disowned lifted a _huge_ weight off his shoulders, and allowed him to look at everything from a different perspective. She was glad for him.

Sirius was looking around in horror as they entered the bridal shop, and Lily joined him. Everything was so _white_ and it looked as though wedding things had literally exploded around the room. Lily almost expected there to be a minister and pews in one corner.

A _very_ perky and _very_ cheerful attendant led their small party of four to the rest of Petunia’s friends that had arrived before them. Petunia squealed as she caught sight of them and hugged each of them quickly, gushing all the while about how happy she was to finally be here. As Lily sat down next to Sirius on the white sofa, she could understand her sister’s excitement. She could picture herself in her sister’s shoes: her here with the girls and her mother, her getting worked up over the stunning white dresses, and her own gushy-ness about the man that she was to be marrying. And she _was_ happy for her sister. She’d yet to meet Vernon, but if he made her sister look like _this_, then she was sure to like him, even if he did sound dreadfully boring the few times she’d heard Petunia speak of him.

Lily then realized that everyone was looking at her, or rather at Sirius who was sitting close enough to her that their sides were pressed together.

“Who’s this, Tuney?” one of her sister’s friends asked.

“He’s just my sister’s friend from her school,” Petunia replied, obviously _very_ delighted at having to speak about it. “He’s staying with us for a few days.”

One of Petunia’s other friends, who looked vaguely familiar, spoke next in a very haughty voice. _“Friend?”_ the woman scoffed. “My mother _never_ would have allowed my boyfriend stay over.”

“We’re not dating,” Lily defended. “Sirius and I have been friends since we were eleven—no romance at all.”

Sirius then threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her impossibly closer. “How easily you dismiss our love, Red! You are the only woman I’ll ever love, allow me one last kiss before you leave me forever!” he cried. He then proceeded to plant very wet and very disgusting kisses all over her face. She made a noise she’d never made before as she fended him off.

“Black if you don’t’ stop, I’ll tell!” she gasped.

“Tell who?” he questioned, stopping his ‘kiss assault’ but keeping his leg thrown over hers and his arm around her shoulders.

She thought quickly and settled on, “Mrs. Potter!”

“She would say you deserve the affection!”

“Fine, then I’ll tell James! I know there’s a rule about me somewhere.”

“It’s an unspoken rule, but go ahead! He has recently acquired information about me that will make him uncaring of my advances.”

“What information?” she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him.

He withdrew all contact immediately, which made her not only more suspicious, but cold without him wrapped around her. Lily was about to open her mouth to question him further, worried that James knew how she really felt about him and knew she wouldn’t accept Sirius’s affections, when she became aware of everyone’s eyes on them again. Petunia looked angry, which was usual these days, and her friends looked more than a little appalled. Lily’s mother, always the peacemaker, spoke before anyone else.

“Why don’t we try the first dress on!” she called, clapping her hands once.

Petunia’s smile, miraculously, returned to her face immediately.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Dress shopping, Sirius decided, was what he would face in hell. He could picture it now, his daily torture regimen consisting of watching Lily’s _dreadful_ sister try on dress after dress, the only difference between some being the placement of buttons. _Buttons._ Lily was a delight though, and, really, he was doing this for her. He also had a feeling that she had dragged him along not because of the damage he could do to her house, which was unlikely in the first place and easily fixable in a second, but because she didn’t want to face this outing alone.

Sirius didn’t blame her. The levels of shrill that Petunia and her friends could reach when they particularly enjoyed a dress was painful to Sirius’s ears, and the conversation topics ranged from table cloths to the sizes of high heeled shoes. Lily was speaking up occasionally though, voicing her favorite choices and complimenting certain veil-to-dress pairings. Most of the dress conversation went straight over Sirius’s head. He’d thought that he had no room in his brain for ‘sweetheart necklines’ or ‘sheath dresses’ or ‘mermaid tales,’ but _apparently,_ he did. Eventually, he even found himself preferring the ‘ball gown’ style even if it did accentuate Petunia’s extraordinarily long neck.

When he realized that he thought pearls would hide the minor flaw on the girl, he became in need of a cigarette immediately—and he wouldn’t turn down a nice hard slap on the back from someone who didn’t know what a ‘modified A-line’ was.

Just as he was about to excuse himself for a quick smoke, a woman dressed in a blue pantsuit called Lily’s name. Lily stood to follow the woman, and she grabbed Sirius by the hand, forcing him to follow her. They were led to a closed off section with a small pedestal in the center and an elderly woman seated on a rolling stool. Sirius was alarmed to see the woman had a great many metal pins sticking out from between her closed lips.

“Stand here,” the elderly woman instructed, somehow speaking around the objects in her mouth. “Your friend leave, and you take clothes off.”

Lily looked taken aback by the sternness in the woman’s face and her no-nonsense Russian accent. She sent a slightly pleading look his direction.

“I’ll stay if you don’t mind, ma’am? Keep my friend company while you…” he looked around and realized he had no idea what was going on, “do what you, um, do.”

The woman only nodded, her irritated expression apparently permanent. Lily looked relieved but she still hesitated to remove her clothing.

“Don’t worry, Evans,” Sirius reassured, taking a seat on one of the chairs by the door and propping his foot on his knee. “I’m not going ta ogle your bits.”

That made her laugh, and she shucked off her jeans. Even though Sirius had zero interest in woman whatsoever, he could recognize that Lily was beautiful. He knew this already because only a blind person would deny the fact, but now he knew it up close and personal. Very little of her skin was revealed at one time because she had a dress clutched around her waist as she removed her shirt and the straps covered her shoulders quickly, but it was enough for him to count James as a lucky man—even if he did just take a couple glances, sticking to his promise of not ogling her. This was thought lightly, though, and with a small laugh that drew Lily’s attention. His friend had _none_ of his shit together where it concerned Lily, nor was James focused on her looks in the first place. Sirius still remembered the first time that James had spoken to him about her. He had said, “That Evans girl got a better score on that test than me, and I think I love her.”

Granted, that was first year and an eleven-year old’s priorities are different than an almost-seventeen-year old’s, but just the other day James had been complaining about how Lily’s marks were better than his on the Transfiguration essay. Some things didn’t change.

“Why’d you just laugh?” Lily asked, eyeing him funny.

“Oh, I was just thinking that if I were into girls, I’d be in heaven right now,” Sirius smirked, purposely giving her ostentatious once-over and wiggling his eyebrows.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not because that look you gave me would send most self-respecting women running for the hills.”

Sirius laughed. And then he froze.

“Wait,” he croaked. “Did I just…”

“Yup,” Lily said, popping the ‘p’—like Sirius had earlier—and smiling.

“Nice. Perfect. Not how I expected _that_ to happen.” Sirius ran a hand across his brow and shook his hair out of his face. “You—you can’t tell anyone. Only-only James really knows and you can’t–”

“Don’t worry, Sirius,” Lily assured. “Your secret’s safe with me. And even if you didn’t really mean to share it, I’m happy you trusted me enough to tell me.”

“Yeah, can we drop this for now?” He laughed nervously. “Or can we at least pretend that I didn’t just drop a bomb so casually.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a _bomb,_ but what_ever_ you want, Sirius,” Lily said. She gave him one more smile before turning as the woman on the stool instructed.

The dress fitting, because that’s what this was, took an hour. By the time Lily was thanking the still silent seamstress, Petunia had narrowed her choice of dress down to two options. Sirius, despite the crash course in dresses that he’d undergone in the last hour and a half, thought they looked remarkably similar. They were both pretty—beautiful if Sirius were to admit it—and he didn’t think the girl could go wrong with either one of them. He decided he should say as much as he was retaking his seat on the sofa next to Lily.

“They’re both very nice choices—and you look lovely in each—but I like the first one best,” he chimed in. “The one with the buttons on the arms.”

Two of the other women, both of who Sirius couldn’t remember the names of, agreed with him immediately

“I like that one too,” Lily said, smiling wide-toothed at her sister. “It makes you look tall and regal.”

“You think so?” Petunia asked, looking at her sister in the mirror.

“Yeah, I do.” Lily nodded.

Despite Petunia deciding on the dress then and there, they were still in the bridal shop for another hour and half. Sirius used this time to finally take his much needed smoke break, and he passed a half hour of that time leaning against the brick building of the bridal shop. He took a deep pull from the cigarette and watched the grey smoke billow into the sky and the wind send it away. Lily sighed obnoxiously next to him, and she was shaking her head at him when he lazily rolled his head to face her.

“These things are horrible for you, you do know that right?”

Sirius snorted. “Evans, if I live long enough for a _cigarette_ to do me in, then I’ll give you a million galleons.”

“Well, that’s morbid.” Lily laughed and took a pull from her own cigarette. Sirius watched the embers glow red for a second and the ash flutter to the concrete.

“You’re one to talk,” Sirius replied. He tipped his cigarette in her direction, gesturing to the one balanced between her fingers. “Those things are horrible for you, Red.”

“Well, if you don’t think I’ll be right by your side in this mess we’re about to get into, then I’ll give _you_ a million galleons.”

.:..:.

Sirius was very much ready to be back at Lily’s house, sitting in her living room and flicking through the channels on the telly (his aunt Andromeda was right, they were amazing contraptions). But Sirius knew this wasn’t yet to be because all Petunia was now talking about was the _French_ restaurant they were meant to eat at, and how they served _authentic _French food and it was supposed to make you _feel_ like you were in _Paris_. Having actually been to France more times than he could recall, he had his doubts about how good a French restaurant in the middle of London could be.

Realizing how snobby that sounded, Sirius vowed never to voice it and to suck it up. He’d have to get used to French food in London because when he craved it, there were no funds available to him that allowed him to just nip off to France for the day. He guessed the place did look rather high end, though, when their party of seven entered the venue. He could’ve done without the large metal Eiffel Tower crawling up the wall behind the hostess stand, but it looked well enough off.

“Party of seven for Evans,” Mrs. Evans said to the maître D.

“It says the reservation is for six, madam,” the man replied after a short perusal of the list in front of him.

“My husband called yesterday to say that we would be adding another plate,” Mrs. Evans insisted. “I watched him make the call and we were told that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m sorry, we only have a table for six.” The man leaned away and began to converse in French with the small woman that had come to look over his shoulder.

Mrs. Evans glanced anxiously at him and then swiftly looked to her eldest daughter, who seemed to be on the verge of panic. Sirius could see the look in her eyes and it reminded him, suddenly, of Regulus. Before he could process what he was doing, he launched into a rapid fire conversation with the maître D— in _fluent_ French. He quickly began explaining that his sister was getting _married_ and that today was supposed to be all about _her_ and what a shame it would be if it was ruined on the account of a small mix-up. He knew that Lily (and everyone else in their group) was watching him in astonishment, but he was too busy trying to translate what the man was saying back to him to acknowledge them.

He wasn’t sure if it was what he said or the language he spoke, but the woman began nodding and she plucked the menus out of the man's hand and snagged another one from the hostess stand.

“You are very kind, young man,” she said, her French accent coating her words. She began to lead them to the back other restaurant.

“You speak French?” Lily hissed at him. “What did you say?”

“I learned how to speak French before I learned to speak English, Red,” Sirius laughed, recalling the old man with the monocle that had taught him. “And I just told him that it was Petunia’s day and that they’d be horrible to ruin it.”

“Really?” Lily asked, her eyebrows rising.

“I may have embellished a little, but it got the job done.”

Once they were seated, Mrs. Evans reached across Lily to pat his hand twice and give him a smile. Dinner passed quickly, and without any further incidents. Sirius had a few laughs as he watched Petunia and her friends try to figure out which silverware to use, and a few more when they eventually decided on the wrong one. With the memory of his stout governess who’d taught him the “art of dining” engrained in his head, he worked his way through the courses with no problem. He was surprised to see Lily doing it correctly too and had asked her about it.

“Marlene told me once at dinner—last year,” she’d informed.

Now they were on their way back to Lily’s house, the hour late and his eyelids a little heavy. Lily had her head on his shoulder and was humming along to a song on the radio. Today, he decided, was one of the best days that he’d had in a long time.

.:..:.

Sirius was eyeing the couch where he was meant to sleep, no longer the least bit tired. He was grateful they had allowed him to stay over, but he was not going to be grateful about the kinks that floral sofa would be putting in his back. One night on that… _thing_ was enough to last him a lifetime, but here he was, frowning deeply and forcing himself not to complain. He’d had worse sleeping arrangements—the floor of the wine cellar at Grimmauld Place immediately coming to mind—so he buckled down and started situating himself. As he let out a particular type of hiss when he twisted _just_ the wrong way to aggravate the knot that had persisted in his neck all day, Lily rounded the corner. She was clutching two mugs of what smelled like hot chocolate and her pajama bottoms were pooling around her socked feet.

“I know,” she winced. “This couch is older than me. My dad’s had his fair share of nights complaining on this thing.”

“Well, I sympathize with him,” Sirius groaned, pushing his hair out of his face and accepting one of the mugs. “It’s been one night and my head feels like it’s going to pop right off.”

They were quiet as they sipped from their mugs, which was in fact deliciously creamy hot chocolate.

“So, I realized a few minutes ago what you meant about James ‘recently acquiring information’ about you that would make me tattling on you meaningless,” Lily said, breaking the silence.

“Ah, yes… _that,”_ Sirius confirmed. “You do know that James has never told us we couldn’t go after you, right. And that he’s never discouraged anyone from asking you to Hogsmeade, either.”

“Now I _know_ that second bit’s a lie,” Lily voiced.

“Is not! Marauder’s honor, Evans,” Sirius intoned. “Peter and I… _may_… have-um… well we were the ones behind both that David bloke and the Sam guy.”

“So James must have still made Louis Heard’s head swell up.”

Sirius laughed. _“Actually,_ that one was all Ailana and Remus, believe it or not.”

Lily was shaking her head. “Well, my whole worldview just changed.”

“Did it _really_ though?” Sirius asked.

Lily just shrugged and flipped on the television. They watched for a few minutes before Sirius felt his eyelids droop.

“Thank you for the drink,” he said, realizing he’d yet to do that. “This will cancel out at least half the lumps on this couch. Maybe if I drink it really fast, then it’ll take care of the broken spring that’s currently digging into my spine.”

Lily laughed and brought her mug to her lips to cover her smile. Then she got a look on her face. It was the same look she’d given him before she hexed Mulciber in third year, and then again right before she’d ripped Snape a new one in potions at the beginning of term. It usually meant she was going to say something rash and/or stupid.

“Why don’t you just sleep in my room?” she asked.

His eyebrows shot up, half in surprise at her offer and half because that was so much tamer than what she usually said after that look graced her features.

“I can’t sleep in the same bed as you,” Sirius stated.

“And why not?” she pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and quirking an eyebrow in a challenge.

He just looked at her, trying to tell her without having to say it out loud that it would be _beyond_ weird. Apparently it didn’t work because she persisted.

“I have a double bed, so we wouldn’t be up in each other business, and I know from James that you don’t snore, so that’s not a problem, and above all, this sofa is going to mess up your back for a _month_—which wouldn’t make me a very good host, would it?”

He just stared at her and couldn’t think of a reason to say no that wouldn’t be a lie. Once Lily Evans set her mind to something, then the idea was here to stay. Finally, he latched on to something.

“Your parents wouldn’t let me,” he reasoned.

“Trust me, after this afternoon, my mother thinks that you hang the moon.” Lily smiled. “You say one thing about your back hurting and she’ll likely insist. As for my dad, well, we can let him yell at us in the morning.”

“James wouldn’t like it,” he added.

“Ah.” Lily smiled. “I recently acquired some information about you that would make him uncaring of your affections.”

Yeah having his words thrown back at him always sucked. Sirius flopped back on the couch. “Lily,” he sighed. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, okay,” she replied quickly. “It was just a thought, don’t worry about it.”

Sirius hated the flat way her voice sounded, and she was standing up and shuffling towards the stairs before he could gather his thoughts. She stopped on the first step and looked over at him.

“You know I love you, right?” she asked. He scrunched his brows and just looked at the way a soft smile curved around her lips. “Just in case that message got lost somewhere. I’ll see you in the morning, Sirius. Goodnight.”

He lied there for another hour, despite his brain screaming at him for rest, simply thinking about what she’d said. He could count the number of times that he’d been told “I love you” on one hand, and it’d all happened in the last six months. There was no love in his house growing up and it wasn’t a word that was ever said. James had been the first to ever say it to him, and the second, but Mrs. Potter held the spot for third, fourth, and fifth. Now Lily held the spot of sixth and he could move his count to his other hand.

It was a warm feeling that filled his chest as he crept up the stairs to Lily’s room. There was a beam of moonlight lighting a patch of the carpet inside her door, and her bed was pressed against the far wall.

“Lily?” he whispered, closing the door and taking a few steps towards his sleeping friend.

“It took you long enough,” Lily mumbled, sleepily patting the open space next to her. “Climb in.”

He did as he was told, being extra careful not to jostle her too much as he did so. He settled down on his back, one hand on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. He glanced over at Lily when she gave a small sigh.

“I love you too, Lily,” he whispered, “and I’m really glad that you’re my friend.” This marked the third time he’d ever said these words out loud. That same smile found is way to her mouth and she reached out a hand to place it on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the wait, y'all. i didn't realize that it had been so long!! but here i am, and despite this being a slightly disjointed chapter, i hope you all enjoyed it. i greatly admire lily and sirius's friendship and i added this (filler) chapter because i wanted to take a chance to explore it a little further. 
> 
> and while i can't promise the next chapter will get here any quicker, i _did_ just officially graduate from college!! *woop woop* hopefully i can use this time to write before i'm thrust into the _true_ adult world.
> 
> let me know what you think of this chapter! thanks for reading :))
> 
> \----
> 
> (author's note edit, 7/24/20: i of course want to know what y'all think of this chapter--that hasn't changed-- but in all honesty, if it's not constructive criticism then you can keep it to yourself. just imagine you've got an auntie sitting next to you saying, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.")


	14. A Christmas Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius heads home, Lily meets Vernon, and Lily comforts a grieving friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so so sorry for the long wait between updates, but this pandemic is not conducive to brainpower. i hope this chapter makes up for the wait tho, because it _is_ one of my favorites so far.

_“Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life.” – _J.R.R. Tolkien, _Lord of the Rings_

Lily was _hot._ Her bedcovers were twisted around her thighs, and Sirius had a heavy arm thrown around her waist, his breath like fire on her neck. However, it wasn’t her friend that woke her, but rather the creak of her bedroom door and the loud exhale of a long suffering sigh. Lily rolled her head to the side to see her father hovering in the doorway. His gaze traveled from Sirius’s naked chest, to the arm draped across her stomach, and then finally landing, rather pointedly, on her face.

“Everything alright, Dad?” she croaked. Her throat ached for water.

“Your mum’s got breakfast waiting,” he said, surprisingly keeping his voice low so as not to wake Sirius. Inclining his head towards the slumbering boy in her bed, he added, “She went all out for his last morning here.”

Lily nodded and started to get up, but Sirius wasn’t budging.

“Evans, stop bloody movin’ will you?” he mumbled, apparently trying to burrow further into her neck.

“Christ, Sirius,” she grumbled. “Get up, there’s food on the table. And you’re like a freaking _furnace._”

“Dunno what a furnace is,” he murmured, finally releasing his hold on her. She was shaking her head and throwing her hair into a ponytail while walking towards her dad. Her father’s expression was not what she expected it to be—she expected amusement for Sirius’s ignorance, annoyance over their sleeping arrangements, or rather anything but the blankness of his current expression. She looked back at Sirius and immediately understood.

This was the first night all week that Sirius had taken his shirt off to sleep. She’d had a good huff about it when he jostled her in the night to do it, but for some unbeknownst reason it had felt like they were sleeping in a sauna last night. Lily herself had thrown on an airy black tank top and thin sleep shorts, having had to dig to the bottom of her summer trunk to find them. This was also the first night all week that her father had woken them up—he’d previously done all he could to ignore the fact that Sirius was sleeping next to her despite Lily’s earlier assurance that they were as platonic as two people could get. Usually Petunia’s hair dryer did the trick—waking them up, that is—or even the sunlight streaming through the open blinds, but today it was her dad.

Sirius was currently sprawled out on his back, the covers also tangled around his legs, displaying his tattooed and scarred chest in all its horrid glory. Lily had been privy to the sight only a few times over the years, and each time it was revealed to her, there was a new jagged pink line added to its ranks. It never failed to make her jaw clench in anger. And as she well knew, she got both her temper and her morals from her father, so it came as no surprise to see his jaw doing the same thing hers was accustomed to.

She grabbed her robe from the peg on the back of the door and gave her dad two pats on the arm. He followed her out of the room and she knew that he wouldn’t ask—not wanting to pry—but she also knew that he’d want to know.

“His parents are absolutely horrible,” she informed him under her breath, not wanting Sirius to hear what she was saying. “He’s not living at home anymore, but he was there long enough.”

“Is that why…why he was–”

“Drunk at that pub before I went back to school? Yeah. He’s normally not like that, I promise. He’s just had a rough go of it these last few months, but he’s—thankfully—finally got some of his bearings back.”

Her dad just nodded as they descended the stairs. “I’m glad he’s got you,” he said.

Lily just smiled, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.

She greeted her mother, who had indeed cooked something akin to a feast, and took her seat at the dining table—tucking her bare feet under her and regretting not grabbing socks as apparently the sauna of her room didn’t extend to the kitchen. She wasn’t even halfway through her assurance to her mother that Sirius would be right down when she heard him shuffling down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Uh, Lily?” he muttered, pushing strands of his long hair away from his face. “Is there a reason that Snape is in front of your house, or can I kick his arse? Pardon my French, Mrs. Evans.”

“I’ve heard you speak French, Sirius,” her mother said. She laughed, filling up a plate full of eggs and not even looking up from the task. “That was _not _French.”

“Er—right,” Lily mumbled, rolling her eyes and looking back to Sirius. “You _cannot_ beat him up. He’ll go away eventually.”

Sirius took a seat and stifled a yawn. “You mean this is a regular occurrence?”

Lily shrugged, unaware that her father’s expression had darkened.

“Not so often _here_, but I know he hangs around outside Gryffindor Tower, and that he sometimes trails me to the library after Charms.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius asked, indignant. “Not telling James I sort of get because he would’ve gone full mummy-bear, but me? Or, at the very least, Remus when you were on one of your do-gooder patrols? _Hell_, I wouldn’t even be mad if it’d been Wormtail that you’d told. Why–?”

“Because nothing ever happens,” Lily interjected, stopping him before he _really_ got on a roll. “And I didn’t want to overreact. _And_ they’re called prefect patrols, because rules are _necessary_.”

“Lily,” Sirius groaned, closing his eyes as if praying for patience. “Snape’s a bigoted arsehole who shouldn’t be anywhere _near _you. I’m gonna go tell him to” –a glance to Lily’s mother– “eff off.”

He made to stand, and Lily snatched his arm to hold him back. “What’s the worst he’s gonna do? Call me names?” she tried to reason.

“Well considering the names that he calls you, I’d say that’s bad enough.”

Lily snatched his other wrist, not allowing him to leave the kitchen. She’d already confronted Severus once about him following her, and he’d still kept it up. After the knowledge that Mulciber was the one who’d attacked Mary had made its rounds of the Hogwarts gossip mill, Severus only became more insistent. It had happened outside the portrait hole the day after the Hogsmeade visit:

_The first thing Lily said to him was, “Save your breath.”_

_It was past midnight, and Lily had hastily thrown on her dressing gown before storming out of the portrait hole, only thinking that she might as well get this conversation over with. This meeting had started exactly the way she thought that it would: him defending himself._

_“I only came because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here,” Lily said, huffing a little and crossing her arms over her chest. She only just realized that she actually would have preferred to be wearing more clothes under the dressing gown than just her baggy sleep shirt, but there was no going back now._

_“I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just–”_

_“Slipped out?” Lily finished. She didn’t want to hear _any_ of this. Any pity she had for the situation, or any that she still harbored for herself at her current position in life, was long gone. “It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends—you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?”_

_Lily watched him gape, and then close his mouth without speaking. Granted, this was the first time she had voiced these accusations, and her heart sank a little more at the realization that they were likely true._

_“I can’t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.”_

_“No—listen, I didn’t mean–”_

_“–to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?” Lily interrupted again._

_She made to go back through the portrait hole, but he called, “Wait!” and she stopped, one last time, for the friend she remembered him to be. _

_“I thought we were supposed to be friends?” he asked, his voice timid. _

_“We were,” she stated, her voice devoid of emotion lest she start rambling. “I’m sorry, but I can’t forgive this. There’s just too many bad rumors going ‘round about you and your friends right now. And I _detest_ Avery and Mulciber. _Mulciber!_ Do you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?”_

_“It was nothing,” Snape defended. “It was a laugh, that’s all–”_

_“It was gross, it was slimy, and someone needs to teach him how to keep his hands to himself or he’ll find himself without them, and his pal Avery will have to wipe his arse for him. It was Dark Magic, and if you think that’s funny–”_

_“What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?” Snape demanded. Color rose high in his cheeks as it usually did when James was mentioned. He seemed unable to hold in his resentment for the quartet of friends._

_“What’s Potter got to do with anything?” demanded Lily. She was properly angry now. Lily could see the cycle that they were falling back into. Snape doing something that’s immoral or seemingly unredeemable, and then proceeding to make her feel guilty about her anger by bringing up James and his friends. But no matter what the Marauders do to Snape, none of it was ever done with the use of Dark Magic. School boy pranks were nothing when compared to the so-called ‘fun’ that Severus and his friends got up to._

_Lily’s anger clouded her hearing because she’d heard nothing of Severus’s ramblings until he said, “I’m just trying to show you they’re not as wonderful as everyone seems to think they are.”_

_“Well you’re not all what a supposed best friend chalked up to be, either,” Lily retorted, almost regretting it when his eyes shuttered. _

_“Well I won’t let you–”_

“Let_ me? _Let_ me?”_

_Lily’s bright eyes narrowed to slits, and Severus had the good sense to backtrack at once._

_“I didn’t’ mean—I just don’t want to see you made a fool of—He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!” Sev seemed to be saying these things against his will, almost as if they were wrenched from him. “And he’s not… everyone thinks… big Quidditch hero–” He was rambling at this point, his hatred making him nearly incoherent._

_“I think I’ll find out how he is by myself, for a change. Maybe I’ll find myself thinking something different than what you’ve conditioned me to.”_

_And with that, Lily whispered the password and climbed through the portrait hole, leaving Severus to face his anger alone._

Lily was drawn from her memories by her father’s chair scraping against the floor. Before Lily could so much as let out a breath, Sirius had used her grip on his arms to pull her from her chair and into the hallway after her father.

“Dad, don’t!” she protested, but it was too late and her father had already opened the front door. She had no choice but to follow Sirius’s fast paced march to the front window, where she joined him in peeking out around the floral curtains.

“Morning, Severus,” she heard her father say, his voice muffled by the glass of the window. “Do you need something?”

“I was hoping to speak with Lily,” the boy responded, looking at his shoes. Now that they were out of school, his baggy Muggle clothes had made their reappearance. The jacket he wore was a hunter green, and the sleeves were so frayed that Lily was surprised it was still a functioning coat.

“She’s eating breakfast with her mother and a friend right now,” her dad replied. “And I don’t believe she’d like to speak with you anyway.”

“A friend?” Severus scrunched up his eyebrows. “I’d hardly call Sirius Black a friend. Do you know anything about him, Sir?”

“I know enough,” was her father’s gruff response.

Lily watched her ex-best friend’s fists clench at his sides and his knees start rhythmically knocking together. She’d been around him long enough to know that he was anxious, but she was past the point in her life where her first response would be to talk him down—to soothe him. Now she just watched with morbid fascination, wondering how this was going to end.

“I-I’ve heard things about him,” was Snape’s reply. “Awful things! Did you know he–?”

Her father cut him off though. “I’m not interested in what you heard he did. He’s given me absolutely no reason to mistrust him, and he’s a good lad. Why don’t you go home now, Severus? I’m sure if Lily ever _does _wish to speak to you, she’ll seek you out.”

Her father, never a man of many words, turned immediately to head back into the house. In the ten seconds before Sirius dragged her away from the window, she watched Severus tilt his head towards the sky and close his eyes. She vowed, in that moment, he would never be ‘Severus’ to her again—only ‘Snape’.

.:..:.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. After having Sirius’s company every night for three nights, she was desperately missing his body heat and was immediately sad that he’d gone back to James’s the previous evening. Stuffing her feet into the fluffiest pair of socks that she owned, and donning her blanket as a shawl, she made her way down the stairs to the living room. Her parents were already perched on the sofa, mugs held in their hands and a blanket thrown over their laps, but Petunia was likely still cloistered in the bathroom. Gone were the days that her sister would open presents in her pajamas and bedhead.

Giving both her mother and father a kiss on the cheek, she took her usual place on the rug in front of them, leaning her head back onto her mother's lap. Lily closed her eyes as her mum carded her fingers gently through her sleep-tangled hair.

Christmas morning traditions in the Evans household had been the same since Lily was a little girl, and she was happy to have them now. With so much else going on in her life at the moment, she was glad to see this, at least, wasn’t changing anytime soon.

“How’d you sleep, dear?” her mother asked.

“Fine,” Lily replied, not opening her eyes. “It was freezing though. So much so that I’d suffer through Sirius’s sleep-talking just to get his body heat back.”

Rose laughed. “He did always seem to be running at a higher temperature than all of us.”

Lily just hummed.

Petunia plopped onto the armchair a few minutes later, and Edward got up to start passing out gifts. Lily talked and laughed with her family, and even Petunia let a smile grace over her lips when opening Lily’s present. Lily was refolding the scarf she’d just opened when her mother ruffled her hair and retreated into the kitchen to finish cooking Christmas dinner. Lily took her mother’s vacated seat on the couch and leaned her head on her father’s shoulder.

“Vernon is coming to dinner, right?” Lily asked her sister.

“Yes, he should be here at two,” Petunia stated, her expression not betraying her true thoughts on the matter. “And no funny business while he’s here, you got that?”

Lily sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that _I can’t_ _do magic outside of school_, Tuney?”

“Well you always seem to find a way around those rules don’t you!” Petunia accused.

“I do not!” Lily denied, sitting up and dislodging her blanket. “I have never done magic outside school; you just like to blame me for everything that goes wrong around here!”

“Girls, girls, enough,” her father scolded. “It’s Christmas, let’s go one day without a squabble, alright?”

.:..:.

It took Lily two minutes to decide that she did _not_ like Vernon Dursley. He was pompous, self-righteous, and his ego was the size of Russia— basically, everything that Snape thought about the Marauders was true _only_ of this man. He was tall, towering a good foot and a half over Lily, but even his height didn’t make up for all the extra weight that sat around his middle. His mustache reminded Lily of a walrus, and his black hair made him look even paler than he was. The thing that Lily disliked about him most, though, was the way he talked down to her father.

One of the first things out of his mouth was some classist nonsense about her father’s job as a mechanic. Even worse yet was that Petunia didn’t even open her mouth to defend Edward, she merely sat by Vernon’s side and slipped her arm through his.

They were eating now, and Lily was convinced that if she always had a bite of food in her mouth, she would be able to avoid conversation with him. She was now more stuffed than the turkey and her plan was failing.

“So where do you go to school, Lily?” Vernon asked after a lull in the debate about the stock system.

“I go to a boarding school up in Scotland,” Lily replied, ignoring her sister’s sharp look of warning.

This started a whole new tirade about some boarding school called ‘Smeltings Academy’ that was apparently all the rage among the academic community.

“Does your school have a particular focus in any area of study?”

Lily was just hoping that someone would save her from having to come up with a decent enough lie when the doorbell rang.

“Ooo carolers!” Lily exclaimed, jumping up from her seat, and discarding her napkin on the table. “I just love Christmas carolers, don’t you?”

High tailing it to the front door, and reasoning that listening to the carolers was a better fate than listening to Vernon, she wrenched the door open without first checking the peephole.

She recognized the woman on the front porch immediately, but the lines in her face seemed even more pronounced than they were last night when she’d come to collect Sirius.

“Mrs. Potter,” Lily said, surprised. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“No, dear.” The woman smiled sadly. “I’m afraid everything isn’t alright. May I come in?”

Worry churning in her gut and terrible thoughts racing through her head, Lily stepped back to let Mrs. Potter cross over the threshold.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your Christmas, but something has happened,” Mrs. Potter sighed. “Monty got word an hour ago that Lola and Alejandro Fernández were found murdered in their home with their youngest son, Luis.”

Lily felt light headed immediately, and she stumbled back into the wall.

“No,” she breathed. “But—but Ailana… is she—where’s Ailana? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, dear,” Mrs. Potter soothed, reaching out to touch Lily’s shoulder. “She was out with her older sister, Maria, when it happened. They’re at Potter Manor now, with us.”

Lily raised a shaky hand to her mouth as a tear ran down her cheek. Ailana’s _parents._ Her little _brother_, only _six years old_. She couldn’t imagine what her best friend was going through right now. The only clear thought in Lily’s head was that she needed to be with Ailana now—help her through the immense grief she must be feeling.

“Can you take me to her?” Lily asked, already thinking of ways she’d get there if Mrs. Potter said no. Luckily, she said, “Yes,” and Lily was already dashing back into the dining room.

Her mother took one look at her face and was immediately on her feet.

“What’s wrong, Lily?” her mother asked. “You look as pale as death. Who was at the door?”

“It’s Ailana,” Lily said. “I have to go to her, _now_. _Please,_ Mother.”

“Oh, it’s Christmas, love,” her mother sighed. “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow?”

“Because her parents are _dead_, Mum,” Lily said, another tear slipping down her cheek. _“And_ her little brother. I have to go, she _needs_ me, Mum.”

Her mother gaped a little, at a loss for words.

“Mrs. Potter is here to get me, that’s who was at the door,” Lily explained.

“Good heavens,” Rose said, pulling Lily into a hug that she gratefully sunk into. “Yes, go. Be with her. Just come back tomorrow in time for us to go to your aunt’s, alright?”

Lily nodded and ran back out to Mrs. Potter, grabbing her jacket off the hook as she did and hastily stuffing her feet into her boots. Within minutes, she was Apparated into the foyer of what she assumed was Potter Manor. She didn’t even have time to admire the home as she was led through the seemingly endless halls towards Ailana. Finally, she was directed to a closed door and told that Ailana was inside.

Lily knocked twice, but didn’t receive an answer. Slowly, almost scared of what she’d find on the other side, she opened the door. All she saw was a lump on the large bed in the corner. Soft light was drifting through the curtains and illuminating the room just enough for Lily to make her way towards her friend.

“Ailana?” Lily whispered.

The figure on the bed sat up. Lily had never seen her best friend’s hair quite so mismanaged. Ailana’s eyes were rimmed in red, her face a splotchy mess, and she was clutching something small in her right fist.

“Lily? What’re you doing here?” Ailana sniffled.

“Mrs. Potter came to get me,” Lily informed, still whispering. “She told me what happened. Ailana… I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

All Ailana did was nod over and over before she let out a sob and squeezed her eyes shut. Lily, paying no mind to the holiday dress she was wearing, climbed into bed next to her friend and pulled her taller frame into her chest. It was hard for Lily not to cry alongside her when Ailana’s wracking sobs tore through Lily’s heart. They were the cries of utter despair, and Lily could think of nothing to say that would alleviate her friend’s pain.

So she just held Ailana until her friend drifted off to sleep.

.:..:.

It was almost midnight when Lily finally extricated herself from Ailana’s sleeping grip and tiptoed out into the hallway. She was closing the door quietly behind her when someone called her name.

“Lils, hey,” James greeted. “My mum told me you were here.”

Fiddling with her hands, Lily shrugged and gave a curt nod.

“How is she?” James questioned.

“She won’t stop crying,” Lily breathed, her voice cracking. “I—I don’t know—I feel _helpless,_ James.”

The hands she’d brought up to wipe away the tears that slipped past her lashes hid James’s next action from her. Next thing she knew, he had wrapped both of his arms around her shoulders and pulled her securely into his chest. Lily started crying in earnest now—shedding tears for her friend’s pain. It was minutes before she registered James’s soothing hand rubbing circles into her back, and the cheek he had pressed to the top of her head.

When she realized how tightly she was clinging to his sides, she let go and blushed, but James wasn’t lowering his arms or allowing her to take a step back. She looked up at him, and saw his face inches from her own—so close that she could see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. Her blush spread to her ears and she spoke her next words to his chest, avoiding what she’d seen in that stare.

“I’m sorry, for the, uh… slobber,” she mumbled. “Um—do we know what happened? Who did it?”

James did step back then, but it was only to grab her hand and lead her further into the maze of hallways that made up Potter Manor. It was only a few turns this time, however, before they came to an open sitting room with a crackling fire. Sirius was sat on the couch, and he jumped to hide the bottle in his hand before he realized who had actually entered the room.

“Hey, Red,” he welcomed, raising the bottle in her direction. “Heard you’d been sniffing about.”

James quickly dropped her hand then, as if just consciously realizing that he’d grabbed it in the first place.

Her hand felt strangely cold without it.

But she strode to Sirius and collapsed next to him, holding her hand out for the Firewhiskey her friend was clutching. As she took a swig, James sat on her other side. She handed him the bottle next.

“So?” she prompted, having been sitting in silence for a whole minute.

“Apparently it was Death Eaters,” James informed. “They don’t know for sure who, but the Dark Mark was over their house when Ailana and Maria got back from their grandmother’s.”

“They were lucky that they weren’t home when it happened,” Sirius added. _“Extremely_ damned lucky.”

“Do we know _why_ though?”

“Her parents were part of the Order,” James said.

“The Order?” Lily questioned.

“It’s something that Dumbledore organized, apparently,” Sirius said. “I overheard Mia and Monty talking about it after the Aurors brought Ailana and her sister here. It’s some secret club for fighting off Voldy that _apparently_ we’re not allowed to join.”

“We are underage,” Lily reminded.

“Yeah, but I don’t have any legal guardians, so who’s gonna stop me?”

James chuckled. “Don’t let Mum or Dad hear you saying anything like that. They’ll go mental.”

They went quiet again, and Lily felt her body settle for the first time in hours. She heaved a sigh and dropped her head to Sirius’s shoulder. She didn’t know how she was supposed to act around her friend anymore. Lily couldn’t decide if it would be better if she allowed Ailana to come and talk to her when she was ready, or to try and get Ailana to talk about it as soon as she could.

Based on the years of friendship that Ailana and Lily shared, Lily knew that Ailana _hated_ when she’s pushed, but she also knew that Ailana was usually better off after she’s confided in a friend. But this was a whole other matter entirely. This wasn’t Lily baiting her best friend to rant after a particularly testy Quidditch match.

Lily closed her eyes.

“What do we do now?” James asked.

Lily, without opening her eyes, placed a hand on James’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Hell if I know, Potter,” she said.

.:..:.

The first thing Lily noticed was that her pillow was moving. The second thing she realized was that it wasn’t a pillow at all, but rather James Potter’s chest. Her body immediately tensed, but then his arm tightened around her shoulders and she found herself relaxing against her better judgment. His pine and wood smell was calming, and oddly familiar.

The third thing Lily noticed was Sirius Black’s arm curled around her legs. His head was pillowed on her hip, and Lily did not envy the crick that was surely in his neck.

The last thing Lily noticed was that this couch was definitely not big enough for three sleeping teenagers.

Groggily, Lily started tapping Sirius on his head until he started groaning.

“Stop it,” he mumbled, not releasing his hold on her.

Somehow, Lily turned onto her back, her dress twisting around her torso and both boys tightening their hold on her. Sirius was firmly wrapped around her middle, and Lily was glad for the blanket covering her as the hem of her dress had climbed to her naval overnight.

“Well don’t you guys look comfortable,” a man said, his voice low. A tall man, his buzzed hair shot through with grey and his skin three shades darker than even his son’s, came into view around the end of the couch. He looked serious, and Lily couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by him. But then he smiled and his dark eyes twinkled, and all she could see in his expression was James’s face. She gave him a half-smile back.

“I’ve had better sleeping arrangements,” Lily quipped.

“I’ve never met two boys who enjoyed cuddling more than these two.” He smiled. “James used to cling to anyone that came near him when he was little.”

The man then extended both his arms and gave her an encouraging nod. Somehow, she extracted the arm that was pressed against James’s side, and was pulled upright with the help of the older gentleman. Both James and Sirius released noises of discontent when James’s father pulled her to her feet, but Sirius just threw his arm around James’s waist instead and they both kept sleeping. Lily surreptitiously adjusted her dress and used the blanket to cover Sirius. James’s father grabbed another blanket off an arm chair and spread it over his son, making sure to tuck it away from Sirius’s face.

Once they were in the hallway, he introduced himself.

“My name’s Monty,” he said, clasping one of her hands in both of his.

“I’m Lily,” she replied, not being able to help the smile she gave him.

“Oh, I know who you are, dear.” He laughed, releasing her hand and motioning for her to walk beside him. “_Lily Evans._ The woman that’s bewitched my son.”

Lily looked at her feet and blushed.

“I’m sorry, I see I’ve embarrassed you,” Monty said.

“No!” Lily denied, even though she was feeling as if she’d like to melt into the paintings on the walls. “No, you haven’t embarrassed me.”

“Well,” he said, leading her into a kitchen, “why don’t we get some food in you before I take you home, yeah?”

She took a seat on a barstool and shivered, the cold metal of the stool causing goosebumps to erupt on her bare arms and legs. Monty apparently noticed everything because he said: “There’s a sweater on the table there, if you’d like it? It’ll be a little big on you, but it’ll warm you up well enough.”

Lily gratefully pulled the jumper on over her wrinkled dress. She knew immediately that it was James’s and had to resist the urge to bury her nose in the soft fabric.

“Thank you,” Lily said, both for the sweater and the steaming cup of tea he’d just placed in front of her. As Lily watched him cook, she realized that she didn’t feel as weird calling James’s father by his given name as she did his mother. Maybe it was because she saw more of James in his father than she did in Mrs. Potter. It was almost like she was looking into the future—looking at a picture of James forty years from now.

If she were being truthful, it wasn’t too bad an image. In fact, Mrs. Potter was a very lucky woman.

“How is your family, Lily? And James tells me that you have a sister?” he inquired.

“My family’s good. Spending Christmas with them is always good—my favorite time of year to be around them, actually.” She huffed a laugh. “Although my sister might tell you otherwise. I’m sure Christmas is her least favorite time of year because she has to see me.”

“I’m gathering that you don’t get along?” he said, opening a cabinet and pulling out some spices.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lily murmured.

“My brother and I used to fight all the time,” Monty began, and she could practically _feel_ the ‘dad speech’ coming on. “I remember—_ha! _—I remember we used to drive my mother _up the walls_ with our bickering. One time, Charlus wanted to bring home a girl for dinner, and I teased him _mercilessly_ about it. She was a Muggle that he’d met when studying in America, and he hadn’t told her about magic yet. Now my sister—Merlin, she was a firecracker if there ever were one. Well, the first thing Dorea did when my brother and his girl walked through the door was vanish their coats and levitate them drinks, all the while pretending not to notice Sarah’s dumbstruck expression. I took the blame, of course— told Charlus that I made Dorea do it. My mother spent the night patching both of us up after we’d dueled.”

“Even as you talk about fighting with your brother, I can hear it in your voice how much you love him,” Lily replied.

“Yes, I loved him,” Monty replied, and there was sadness in his voice now. “He and his wife Sarah have long since passed. What I’m attempting to say, is that you should cherish the time you have with family.”

Lily appreciated what he was trying to tell her, and she didn’t have the heart to do anything but nod. It wasn’t _her_ that was fueling her and Petunia’s budding estrangement, after all.

“Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?” he asked, now chopping potatoes into small squares.

“No, my family usually spends it watching the New Year’s programs on the telly,” Lily replied.

“Well, every year, my family throws a party,” Monty said, looking at her slyly. “It’s really an excuse for us to get dressed up and drink expensive champagne with our friends, but it’s always a nice occasion. You and your family should join us this year.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lily replied. “My sister _hates_ magic, and I’m sure shoving her into a room with a bunch of wizards isn’t the way to remedy that feeling.”

“Well, tell your family that you’ve been invited, anyway,” Monty insisted. “Or I might have to whip out my good cloak and charm your unsuspecting mother into agreeing.”

_God, he really is James’s father, isn’t he?_ Lily thought.

“I’ll tell them,” Lily said, laughing and rolling her eyes at his back.

“Good,” he said, turning and placing a plate teeming with eggs and potatoes on the counter in front of her.

She gratefully dug in and they ate together in companionable silence. A short while later, Mrs. Potter walked in. The woman greeted Lily warmly and with a smile, and she placed a kiss on each of her husband’s cheeks before stealing the fork from his hand and helping herself to the last of his breakfast. The look that Monty gave her then was so full of affection that it almost made Lily blush, and she excused herself quickly.

“I’m going to go look in on Ailana before I go,” Lily informed. “Any help navigating?”

“Three lefts and a right, dear,” Mrs. Potter said.

Following their directions, she easily found the correct hallway, but then she had four doors to choose from. Of course, Ailana and her sister were in the last room that she checked. They were asleep, curled towards each other in the middle of the bed, and neither of them stirred when the door creaked, so Lily let them be and silently closed the door—vowing to write often and attempt to see her again before term started back up.

Her trek back to the kitchen was slow and meandering. The few portraits on the walls eyed her as she passed, and she tapped her fingers along the tables. There was a lot of light and Lily was too busy looking up to the ceiling, in search of the source of said light, that she ran right into James as she turned the corner—or rather, James barreled into her, as a turtle could’ve outpaced her.

She stumbled back, and was honestly perfectly capable of keeping her footing despite what James apparently thought as he smacked one hand to the wall and fisted his other in the jumper she was wearing. There was also the distinct possibility that he grabbed onto her not to stop her fall but rather to prevent his own tumble to the carpet.

“Woah, you okay?” Lily asked, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder as he straightened out.

“That’s mine,” is all he said and Lily’s eyebrows furrowed, thinking he’d hit his head. Then his warm hand slowly ran down her side and she became even more confused, but it became much harder to process her confusion, as there were more prominent feelings circling her at the moment.

Her mind was zeroed in on the solid weight of his hand on her hip and it seemed impossible to her that that was their only point of contact because it felt like that touch was everywhere.

“What?” was the only word that she managed.

“The sweater,” he replied, his voice lower than usual.

_Oh._ “Your dad said I could borrow it. I hope that’s okay! I mean, I ran out of my house so fast that I didn’t think about bringing anything—let alone _clothes_. And I didn’t really expect to stay the night—really my whole plan to–”

“Lily.” He laughed lightly, finally drawing his hand away from her and stuffing them both in his pockets. “It’s okay, of course you can have it.”

“Have it?” She smirked.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes before continuing. “I mean—yeah. I-It looks… um… well, you look good in it. I mean it looks good _on _you—the jumper that is. It’s just the color. It—uh—suits… you. Merlin, I’m gonna shut up now.”

Lily’s blush had spread from her face to her neck and chest, and she felt way too hot to warrant the sweater but damn her if she was going to take it off now—not when it made him this flustered (she decided to ignore her own lack of composure at the moment).

“Well, thank you,” she said, surprised that her voice was clear. “Your dad’s about to Apparate me home, so I can give this back now if you want?”

She was fingering the hem of the sweater and hoping he’d say no, but feeling as though she had to ask or it would’ve been awkward—at least more awkward than what was currently happening.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said, his lips curling into that soft smile that always went straight to her heart.

As he held out his arm, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen, they locked eyes. It was only for a second, no longer than the length of time to draw in a breath, but what she saw in his eyes was reflected in her own.

It scared her, but the sheer thrill of it made her breath catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the flashback scene in the middle of this chapter is almost taken directly from chapter thirty-three, ‘a prince’s tale’ in deathly hallows. i finagled it a little to make it fit my needs, (canon? i don’t know her?) but most of the dialogue is taken directly from the novel.
> 
> also, i’m making the assumption that everyone eats holiday dinners at weird times just like my family. 
> 
> and would you look at that. charlus is his brother, who knew? this seemed as good a place as any to name-drop james’s middle name. and i’m blatantly ignoring that dorea was a black, not a potter, that she and charlus were apparently married because f*ck canon.
> 
> next chapter is, of course, a new year's ball because a fanfic is not complete without that.


	15. New Year's Eve Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Evans' accept Fleamont Potter's invitation to their New Year's Eve party (part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're over a hundred thousand words now!! this is such a big milestone for the story, and i can't believe i made it here. there's a bit of a large exposition in this chapter, but i couldn't bring myself to cut any of it. hope you all love this chapter, it's been one of my favorite to write :))

_“There is nothing rational about love. Love stutters when it gets nervous, love trips over its own shoelaces. Love is clumsy, and my heart refuses to wear a helmet.” – _Rudy Francisco

Darkness had long since fallen, the stars peeking through the clouds, and Lily had been staring at her open closet door for the past hour—contemplating the conundrum that she’d found herself in: dressing for a New Year’s Eve party at James Potter’s home.

Narrowing down her admittedly small wardrobe into something that screamed “Fancy!” was as difficult a task as any—she actually found herself wishing she could replace this task with a mountain of Arithmancy homework, and then she felt slightly crazy. The normal holiday dress she broke out for all her family functions was currently draped over the back of her desk chair, and she honestly would’ve donned that if—well, if James hadn’t already seen her in it on Christmas day. And that’s not to say Lily was dressing _for_ James, but she wanted to look nice, and she was far enough down the rabbit hole of her crush that she could admit to wanting him to think she looked nice too.

Taking into account that Monty told her tonight was an excuse to dress up, and the fact that the quality of his clothes on a normal day were worth enough to purchase a small estate, she was almost positive that he meant tonight was a “black tie” event—or whatever the Wizarding World equivalent was. In proportion to her everyday clothes, she did own a rather large amount of quasi-fancy dresses courtesy of her Aunt Dahlia. Twice a year, her wealthy aunt sends her a ‘care package’ full of sweets and, if she’s lucky, a beautiful piece of clothing from some new foreign destination. She was trying to decide between two of those dresses now.

One dress was black and fell all the way to the floor in a single sheet of smooth fabric. The small black beads woven into the mesh of the arms and chest made it look like the ocean at night—dark and intimidating and dangerous, but also rippling and full of life. She’d yet to wear this ensemble anywhere because its open-back design seemed too risqué and adult for her—she almost felt like she was a little girl playing dress up in her mother's closet whenever she thought about putting it on. The other option was much safer design wise, but no less beautiful. It fell just past her knees in flowing waves of dark green fabric, and it set off the color of her eyes perfectly. She had fallen in love with it immediately. She’d worn this dress to a wedding the summer before and knew if she paired it with gold bangles and black tights, she’d look regal and sophisticated.

Risking a glance at the clock, she was startled to see how much time had _actually_ passed since she’d gotten out of the shower—her hair had even managed to dry on its own (which was a feat, considering how thick it was).

Sighing, and giving in to defeat, she called out, “Mum! Can you come here for a second?”

Her mother—swathed in her worn, baby blue bath robe and with only half of her hair straightened—peeked her head around the corner of Lily’s door.

“Yes, love?” she asked.

“Help,” Lily said simply, gesturing helplessly to the two dresses hanging from her closet door.

“Hmm,” her mother hummed, stepping fully into the room and placing a hand on her hip in only the way that mothers could pull off. Her eyes narrowed at the garments, and she hummed again. “Try the black one on. I want to see how it looks on you.”

As her mother perched on the end of Lily’s bed, Lily pulled off her sweater—or rather, James’s sweater but who was really paying attention? —and shimmied into the black dress. Lily had tried it on before, of course, but she was still surprised by how breathable the fabric was, considering that it clung to her torso like a second skin before flowing gently from just above her hips. She managed to zip it all on her own, but she backed up to her mother to have her slide home the two small buttons at her neck.

Lily faced her mother, the dress swirling gently around her ankles, and extended her arms in a powerless action. “Well?”

“Oh, Lily,” her mother whispered. “You look so grown up.”

“But do I look like I’m trying too hard? I don’t want to look silly.”

“You do _not_ look silly, dear. It’s _perfect,”_ she replied, standing up and guiding her daughter to face the mirror in the corner of the room. Her mother smoothed down the sides of the dress and held Lily’s hair off her neck with one hand in a makeshift up-do. “You look so much _taller, _too. This dress makes up for what my family’s genes took from you.”

Lily laughed, and she felt all her anxiety about the night flow out of her with it.

“Can you do my hair?” she asked.

.:..:.

The drive to James’s house had just hit the hour-and-a-half marker, and Lily’s legs were getting restless—the need to get up and walk around was flowing like hot lava through her veins. Her father had mapped out the entire route the night beforehand, and that information was now stored safely inside his brain as they wound down country lanes that seemingly had no end. Monty had offered to Apparate her whole family, but Lily had politely declined, knowing that it would be hard enough to get Petunia to agree to attend this party without throwing in a foreign form of travel that was likely to make her nauseous.

Thankfully, Petunia _had_ agreed to come, and Lily was still surprised every time she looked to her right and saw her sister sitting there, staring out the window with her normal blank expression. Her sister, though now nearly smothered by a heavy winter coat, was wearing a soft pink dress with a simple silk sash tied around the waist—also courtesy of Aunt Dahlia. Lily used to envy the color of her sisters’ hair, and those feelings came bowling back as Lily admired the dramatic up-do Petunia’s hair was twisted into. Her simple diamond earrings (a Christmas gift from Vernon) adorned her ears, and the silver charm bracelet she’d worn since she was fifteen was hooked around her wrist. She looked very pretty.

Her mother was the picture of grace in her blue dress. It was the finest piece of clothing that her mother owned, and Lily had only ever seen her wear it twice before. Her white kitten heels were from another generation of style, but they complemented her personality well. Her short hair was pin straight and she clutched a beaded cotton shawl in her lap that she would later wind around her shoulders.

Her father, as usual, pulled out the only “monkey” suit that he owned and simply matched his tie and pocket square to the color of his wife’s dress. His cuff links were simple and slightly worn, having been passed down from his grandfather. Her mother had slicked back his greying hair, and he looked quite smart. Lily knew that his Muggle suit would be one-of-a-kind at this event, and it was likely that he would get a kick out of the other men’s dress robes.

Her family had never gotten this dressed up to go to a party before, and Lily was feeling rather excited about what the night would hold. There was also something about looking fancy that made her feel quite powerful.

“Do you think this is it?” her father asked twenty minutes later. Leaning over the center console, Lily eyed the heavy wrought iron gate. Her attention snagged on the ornately carved crest that dominated the center of said gate, and she recognized the design from the various doodles that James was known to pen in the margins of his notes and the corners of test papers.

“Yeah, this is it,” Lily confirmed.

The gates, obviously magical, creaked open almost silently as their truck pulled closer to them. The house wasn’t yet visible as they crept through the gate, and the driveway winded around a few massive oak trees before the yard opened up before them. Both Lily and her mother gasped at the sight.

“Holy hell,” her father murmured.

“I knew he had money,” Lily said, awe in her voice. “Everyone knows the Potters are wealthy, but this… this is _rich _rich. Like ‘I sleep on thousand-dollar sheets and buy new ones instead of washing them,’ rich.”

The house before them was _huge,_ and it had the distinct energy of ‘old money.’ When James was younger and his ego was significantly larger, he did a lot of bragging about the money that his family had, and you couldn’t go two hours without hearing that his family was wealthy—the money both inherited and earned. This really was _much_ more than she expected, however. The entire manor was built of grey brick and there was a smattering of glowing windows across the front—more than she cared to count at the moment, but enough to make it a significant observation. It was dark enough outside that most of the building was lost to the night, but the twinkling lights suspended along the drive and up the walkway gave it an ethereal feel. It was a _really_ beautiful house.

Putting the truck in park at the end of the driveway, Lily and her family clambered out and made their way up the rest of the walkway on foot. The larger-than-normal wooden front door swung open before they even reached it, and both of James’s parents welcomed them happily over the threshold.

Both of the Potters were smartly dressed, and Lily let out a breath, happy and relieved to see that the dress code was just as fancy as she’d thought it’d be. Mrs. Potter’s dress robes were a _beautiful _lavender fabric, and the woman had a sparkling circlet of diamonds woven into her greying-red braid. Lily was also surprised to see that Monty was sporting his own jewelry: a single sapphire earring dangling from his left lobe on a golden chain. That, and the matching azure colored robes, offset his dark skin wonderfully.

“Welcome, welcome,” Mrs. Potter greeted, ushering them further into the foyer. “You look absolutely _stunning_, Rose. I see where Lily gets her looks! And this young lady must be Petunia?”

Her sister nodded, and Lily tried to hide her surprise when Petunia extended her hand unprompted and shook their hosts’ hands in acknowledgement.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you all,” Monty said. “I’m James’s father, Fleamont—but please, for the love of everything, call me Monty.”

He had a jovial smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, that matched that of his son’s, as he shook her father’s hand and kissed her mother's knuckles.

“Let me take your coats,” he offered, draping the garments over his arm. He called out, “Ellie!” and a small house-elf appeared to take the coats from his arms. “Thank you, my dear.”

“You’s wished to be informed when the young master Sirius found the Dom Pérignon?”

“How long ago?” Mia asked, and if Lily wasn’t mistaken, that was excitement in her voice.

“Ellie catches him ten minutes ago, Missus,” the house-elf replied, speaking in third person the way that Lily had always found adorably endearing.

“Thank you, my dear,” Monty repeated. As soon as the house-elf Disapparated, Mia rounded on her husband and let out a triumphant shout.

“That’s a new record!” Mia exclaimed. “It’s not even ten yet!”

“And that was a good hiding place too,” Monty grumbled. “Of course, I never should have bet against you, as you have a sixth sense about these things.”

Lily started laughing when she realized they’d had a wager about how soon Sirius would find the champagne.

“Come, come,” Mrs. Potter said, turning back to Lily and her family with a celebratory grin on her rouge-painted lips.

Her mother and sister’s eyes were about bugging out of their heads as they stared at the place the house-elf had disappeared from only thirty seconds before, but the Potters didn’t seem to notice their bewildered expressions as they began talking again. Her dad looked at her though, surprise clouding his features and a question in his eyes.

“They’re called ‘house-elves’,” Lily informed quietly. “They’re like servants, and they do a lot of cooking and cleaning—very loyal to their host family.”

“Weird,” was all he said as he turned back to their hosts.

“–and most of our guests arrived via Floo, so we didn’t think to prepare this area of the house for anyone's eyes but our own.” Mrs. Potter chuckled. “These rooms are where we spend the majority of our time as a family, though I know my boys get up to all kinds of mischief in the west wing. I reckon if I cannot hear them, then I might as well leave them to their own devices.”

“Boys?” Rose asked. “You have more children than just James?”

“Not biologically, no,” Monty replied, a sad note to his words. “But one of James’s friends was in need a home, and we were more than happy to take him in. He’s been like a son to us since we’d first met him, but now that it feels so much more official, it would feel wrong—a disrespect to him, even—not to call him one of ours.”

“That’s very magnanimous of you,” Edward acknowledged, nodding in the way that fathers do when they’re both surprised and proud.

“It’s the _least_ we could’ve done,” Mrs. Potter replied. “He’s a good boy, and we have more than enough room—both in home and in heart—to take him in.”

Taking the natural end of this conversation by the reins, her mother complimented, “You have a beautiful home, Mia. I should have expected it would be as grand as you.”

“You’re too kind, Rose.” A pretty blush stained Mrs. Potter’s cheekbones. “This is where Monty grew up, but I’ve had a couple decades to add my own touches to the place.”

“And thank Merlin for that,” Monty added, gently brushing his hand across the small of his wife’s back and taking them around another bend in the hallway. “My mother had _horrid_ taste in décor, rest her soul. The number of taxidermy animals and lace doilies I had to remove from the drawing rooms when she passed away was actually terrifying.”

Her father laughed at that, and even Petunia cracked a reluctant smile.

“Was that a truck you—uh, _drove_ here, Edward?” Monty asked.

Her father, however, was too busy looking around at the high ceilings of the hallway (likely looking for the source of light like Lily herself had done just a few days ago) to hear Monty’s question. Lily nudged him with her elbow.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you _drove _here?” Monty repeated.

“Oh, yes—yeah, I’ve had that beauty for years. It wasn’t too long of a drive, either,” Edward replied, clearing his throat.

“And Lily mentioned that you work on them? That your profession is a—uh—mechanic?” Monty wondered.

“That’s right,” her father said, standing a little taller as if preparing to hear a demeaning comment about his choice of career. (Lily could seriously fucking strangle Vernon.)

“That’s _fascinating!” _the other man exclaimed, and Edward settled, his hackles lowering. “You must explain to me how they work. I’ll introduce you to some colleagues from the Ministry that are even more interested in Muggle inventions than I am—honestly, they put me to shame. I’d never seen Winston smile so large as he did when I informed him that we were going to have a Muggle family in attendance tonight.”

“You work in government?” Lily’s mother asked.

“Good Godric, _no_,” he denied vehemently. “Those tossers? They don’t know their arse from their tea kettle!”

“Fleamont!” Mrs. Potter scolded, though both Lily and her father laughed.

“Apologies, madams,” he said, nodding to Lily’s mother and sister before continuing with a smile. “No, I don’t work in government, but I do some occasional consultant work for different departments. I’m a potioneer, actually—or rather, I used to be, but I haven’t spent a full day in the laboratory since James was born. I spent most of my youth attempting to invent a hair potion that was capable of taming the rats’ nest that inhabited my head. I managed to finally get the formula right in ‘25, even though there’s still this tricky bit about redheads not being able to use it—which, of course, Mia believes I did on purpose just to thwart her—and I sold the formula when James was born, so I could spend all day at home with him and Mia. And, as you can see, I shorn my hair to the scalp at about the same time I sold it, so I never have to use the stuff anyway.”

“In 1925? Really?” her father asked, raising his eyebrows. “I wasn’t even born ‘till ‘29 and you’d already gone and invented things.”

Monty laughed. “Yes, well, I’m getting on in years, even if I don’t always act like it. I was fifty when we had James—we had tried for years to have children, but to no avail—everything we tried was unsuccessful. James was the most delightful surprise that either one of us has ever had.”

“Have you been told why it was difficult for you to conceive?” Rose asked, her voice full of sympathy.

“Sadly, no one had to tell us,” Mia said. “We knew that it’d likely be hard before we’d even been wed. It’s just something that happens in Pureblooded families—and Monty and I both come from a _long_ line of Pureblood wizards. There’s a lot of inbreeding that occurs in these circles—in order to keep the line completely ‘pure’ there are only so many options for a spouse. Especially considering that most marriages are arranged between families for money or standing no matter how close the relation—our own grandparents were first cousins. Anyway, it just makes it harder for us to conceive. Now we have Sirius, though, so we’re one step closer than we ever thought we’d be to filling this giant house with children like we’d always wanted to.”

“When you say–?” her mother began.

“Wait!” Lily cut in, finally piecing together the facts in her mind. _“You _invented _Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion? _I’ve been thinking, and that was the only big potions company that sold in 1925!”

“I did,” Monty said, nodding proudly. Their group came to a stop outside another set of double doors, and Lily could hear music and laughter emanating from behind the wood.

“I had no idea that was you!” Lily gasped. “That’s amazing! I’ve read all your articles about the regeneration of Gomas Barbadenis in last year’s potions class. I thought it was so interesting! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots and figure out that that was you! Later, I’ll have to pick your brain about your opinions on different dragon scales having different properties.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” he insisted, giving her a very fatherly smile. “James has told me that you’re quite the whiz at potions, but I had no idea you were interested in theory.”

“Alright, you two.” Mrs. Potter smiled. “You can geek out over this later. Let’s get to the party, shall we?”

Lily, although much wanting to talk more with Monty, conceded and gave a sheepish grin to her mother and father.

The room that they had been led to was a ballroom that Lily associated with the dramas on the telly and the princesses in the movies. It was a wide-open space with darkly polished wood floors, and heavy oak tables covered in white linen and trays of food that lined the walls. There was a band situated in one corner, elevated just a little above what she assumed was the dance floor, and soft classical music emitted from their instruments. Two crystal chandeliers hung in the middle of the room, and they were so bright and modern looking that Lily almost expected them to be powered by electricity, but she could _just _make out the small flames dancing on their wicks.

Her attention was then drawn to the back wall of the room because she realized that it wasn’t a wall at all, but rather a series of large sheets of stained glass. Backlit from the outside, the multitude of colors were perfectly illuminated and reflecting softly off the ceiling and hardwood—it was subtle enough that it wasn’t distracting, but noticeable enough to be beautiful. The mosaic of colors were bisected by a set of clear glass French doors that were propped open with two small pine trees shrouded in white twinkling lights. Lily couldn’t feel any drafts of cold air, and she reasoned there was a rather advanced warming charm in place.

Taking in the small crowds of witches and wizards, Lily saw people of all shapes and colors mingling around the room. Lily watched a tall dark-skinned woman, with a beautiful cerulean headpiece and a train of skirts that flowed behind her, part the crowd like water—turning heads from all directions. She then caught sight of a short plump woman in a dark set of male dress robes laughing jovially with a tiny group of children. Her gaze also snagged on a skinny man, whose height rivaled that of Hagrid, lumber through the crowd with a clear glass of dark liquid in hand.

Lily’s eyes then, almost like magnets seeking their opposite, found James’s person amidst the throng—he was speaking to a stout middle-aged man.

“He doesn’t know that you’re here,” Monty whispered to her, causing her to jump as she’d forgotten that her family and James’s parents were still standing around her. Monty gave her a conspiring smile before continuing: “He’s been in a panic since he realized you _might_ be coming, but that you also might _not_ be... it was too entertaining to either confirm or deny your attendance—I liked watching him squirm, as there’s very few things that can coax that reaction from him these days.”

Lily smiled, but her gaze never wavered from James’s profile. “That must have been interesting to witness.”

“That’s one way to put it, dearie,” he replied. “I’ll leave you to it, and I can show your parents and sister around—I promise I won’t abandon them to the masses of the Wizarding World. And you can find me later to ask me anything you’d like about potions—though I’d wager that we’ll be meeting again rather soon.”

Lily did look at him then, and she gave the older man a grateful nod. With a parting fatherly pat on her arm, Monty turned away and led her family in the direction of an elderly looking wizard who hurried towards them as soon as he spotted them.

Steeling herself, and turning back towards James, Lily bit her lip. He had yet to notice her, so she was gifted the rare opportunity to observe him without his knowledge in a setting that allowed for this kind of thing. He was angled slightly towards her. His hands, as usual, were gesturing wildly as he spoke. His dress robes were very finely made, as if she’d honestly expected anything less, and they were tailored to fit his frame perfectly. _Thank the gods for Quidditch,_ she thought as her eyes slid along the broad expanse of his shoulders. He really _had_ grown up since the end of last term, and it was hard to imagine that he was only sixteen. James Potter could easily pass as a few years older—especially when his face got a little scruffy.

It was an odd sight to see him dressed up, and Lily allowed herself to freely appreciate it for one of the first times. She was happy to see that one thing hadn’t changed, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the thought that his father literally _invented_ a hair care product, and yet James’s hair was never ever tame—always sticking up at weird angles and curling in odd places. Secretly, as she’d likely never admit it out loud, she hoped this never changed.

A dreamy sigh slipped out from between her lips, and, for once, she didn’t try to cover it up with a cough or frantically look around to see if anyone heard—worried that the sound would give away all the feelings that she’d so far kept pent up. Today, she just let herself look and daydream and admire.

James, as if finally sensing her heated gaze, looked her way. His smile was crooked and genuine as he slowly scanned her from her heels to her hair, lingering dangerously on the (admittedly short) length of her legs. He ran a hand through his hair, and Lily hid her smile only because of the charade she’d been upholding about that action annoying her. As their eyes locked and he began to walk towards her, his gaze never wavering, Lily realized something.

She was a _goner_. A _complete_ fucking goner.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

“James!” his mother yelled, her voice echoing up the stairs and filtering into his bedroom. “Guests will be arriving in less than thirty minutes! Please tell me that you’re dressed?”

James, looking down at his sweatpants, and cringing as he took a tentative sniff of his t-shirt, decided that his best course of action was to not answer his mother—she could always hear the lie in his voice. As it was, he shouldn’t be judged too harshly for his current state because really, how many people shower on the days between Christmas and New Year’s? Isn’t that short stretch of time _meant_ for lazing about and ignoring things like showers?

Sirius was chuckling at him from his perch on the couch, his friend already clothed in a pair of dress robes—ironically, the same dress robes that he was wearing the day he left his parents’ house—and reclining casually against the cushions, an ankle balanced on his knee and a glass of water clutched lazily in his hand like it was a tumbler of whiskey.

“James Charlus Potter!” his mother yelled again. “Don’t you dare make me climb these stairs and check for myself!”

“I’ve got him, Mrs. P!” Sirius replied, still laughing. Quieter now, he added, “You really ought to get dressed, mate. Before she follows through on her threat of locking you in the attic for the night.”

“I’d rather be locked in the attic,” James grumbled, only being half sarcastic. He did grab his clothes, though, and head towards the bathroom attached to his room.

“Come on, Prongsie!” Sirius called, his voice now muffled from behind the closed bathroom door. “This is the only night of the year where I get to dress up for fun! Granted, it’s in a pair of clothes I wish I would have _burned_, but we can’t have everything! And just think, mate… this is the only night of the year where we won’t get in trouble for drinking the expensive stuff. Can’t you hear the Dom Pérignon calling your name?”

Sirius began imitating an echo: “_Jaaamesss. Drink me, James! I’ve been sitting in a cabinet for a year, and I just want someone to _pop_ my cork!”_

James leaned his face into the spray of water, uncaring that it wasn’t quite warm yet, and tried his best to ignore his friend’s voice. He’d _never_—not in a million years—want the melancholy Sirius from two months ago to make a reappearance, but he could do with a slightly less chipper version of his friend—or at least a friend that didn’t personify champagne bottles or drive him up the walls with more sexual innuendos than he knew what to do with.

And James _was_ looking forward to tonight’s party—really, he was—but he knew he’d have to be re-introduced to all of his parents’ stuffy friends (granted, most of his parents’ friends were cool, just old). And there’d likely be a long-lost aunt that spontaneously replied to the RSVP and showed up to unexpectedly pinch his cheeks and smother him in choking floral perfume.

“And I hear that Evans might be coming!” Sirius called, his voice (thankfully) back to normal. “You wouldn’t want to miss a chance to pine longingly over her eyes!”

James rinsed the soap from his hair.

“Or moon over her arse!” Sirius piped in. “Oh—wait… I just realized the amount of one-liners that you’ve likely been practicing. Oh no, the _horror _show of jokes that I’m going to have to sit through tonight. Kill me _now!”_

James squeezed body wash onto his flannel and, only for a second, did he imagine that the bottle was his best friend’s neck.

Running the flannel over his chest, he hated that his friend knew the real reason he was anxious about the party—even if his attempt to calm him resulted in anything _but_ calmness. The real reason he didn’t want to get ready was Lily.

Not the girl herself, per se, but rather the unknown factor of whether or not she would be at his _house_ tonight. Honestly, he was still reeling from the last time she was here. First, with her nodding off on Sirius’s shoulder, but shifting twenty minutes into her slumber to collapse into James’s side instead—her thin arm curling around his waist and her cheek nuzzling into his chest. And second, with her wearing a sweater he had carelessly shucked off in the kitchen the night before. Seeing her in that had made him more than a little hot and bothered, and he wasn’t able to stop himself from running his hand down her side just to _feel_ her in it. Even thinking about it now produced thoughts that he absolutely didn’t have time for.

The thing was, his father told him he’d invited her and her family, but no matter how much James needled at him, the man wasn’t at _all_ forthcoming on whether she’d accepted the invitation.

It was cruel of him, really. And not in an over-dramatic way.

If she did come, what was he supposed to do at midnight? Kiss her? If so, on the lips? Or the cheek? The forehead? Or avoid the traditional midnight kiss entirely and just—he didn’t know… high-five her? James snorted. _And_ what was he supposed to do when the perfect song came on and he couldn’t help but ask her to dance? He had vivid memories of that last encounter too, where they’d danced together on Halloween—of her head on his chest, of her hand in his, of her fingers in his hair, of his hands pressed firmly to the small of her back.

Worst of all, what if he worried and agonized over _all _of this and she _didn’t even show up?_

He rested his head on the tile, slamming it a little harder than he meant to, and forced himself to shut off the water. James heard muffled voices from his room as he began toweling off, and he stilled when he heard Remus’s distinct laugh mingling with Sirius’s.

Ever since Sirius had told him that he was gay (or more specifically, that he had a thing for Remus), more and more aspects of his friend’s life started to make sense—almost as if James had had the puzzle pieces all along and was only now able to put them together to complete the picture. There were even small things that he didn’t notice before that were now _glaringly_ obvious—like the way Sirius’s body language changed (just slightly) around Remus, or how James never caught Sirius’s gaze lingering on any girl (ever), or how his best friend looked to Remus before anyone else (almost like he was checking to see if the other boy is happy).

The biggest thing that James took away from this new revelation, however, was that Sirius chose _him_ to be the first person to tell. Not only was he glad that Sirius trusted him, he’s also glad that Sirius trusted _himself_ enough to finally say it out loud.

“–because if you do, I'll give you the silent treatment for a _week!”_ he heard Sirius threaten, pulling James from his musings.

“You _wouldn’t,_” Remus replied calmly. “I call bullshit—you’d miss the sound of your own voice too much.”

The next sentence was uttered too low for him to hear, so James started pulling on his clothes, wishing he’d brought his wand in here so he could clear away some of the steam—to hell with the underage wizardry law. He only made it as far as his slacks when the humidity of the bathroom became too much—his skin too sticky to pull on anymore clothes. Torn between wanting to give Sirius more alone time with Remus and _not_ incurring the wrath of a pissed off Mummy Potter by being late, James made the obvious choice.

Banging around enough, and cracking the door open at a slow enough pace, he made sure to loudly announce his presence to his friends before he entered his _own_ bedroom. James, obviously expecting more, only glanced at the distance between Sirius and Remus on the couch for a second before rubbing his towel over his wet hair and walking towards his bed.

“Hey, Moony,” James greeted. “Get here alright?”

“Made it with no problem,” his friend replied. “Brought all my stuff with me, as well. Figured I’d crash with you ‘till we head back to Hogwarts—save my mum and dad the trip into London.”

“Of course you can stay,” James agreed easily. “You’re always welcome—you know that—and Mum loves to play chess with you, so she’ll be itching for a game or two.”

“Hey!” Sirius interrupted, leaning over the back of the couch and angling his body into Remus’s space as he looked at James. “I am a _perfectly_ good chess player.”

“Whatever you say, Padfoot,” Remus sighed, smirking a little in James’s direction and giving Sirius a condescending pat on the head (although, he was surprisingly careful not to mess up Sirius’s expertly styled hair).

“A _perfectly_ good chess player,” James said solemnly, nodding with fake sincerity.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and shifted his glare between the both of them. Huffing with indignation and defeat, Sirius said, “I dislike you both.”

.:..:.

James had been right. Not only had he run into a cheek-pinching, perfume-swaddled aunt, but also an over-enthusiastic Great-Uncle who believed claps on the back were a response to anything and everything. His shoulder was still aching a little, actually, and he’d been subtly rotating it as he stood there. Now, he was speaking with one of his mother’s oldest friends, telling him everything about what it’s like being a Quidditch captain. James was only halfway paying attention to what he was saying, as he was infinitely more interested in eyeing Sirius and Remus over the man's shoulder—the former of whom was leaning against the wall with Remus hovering close to his side.

James would admit that he was in full Marauder planning mode. His newest scheme? Get his two best friends into a relationship—also known as Operation Moonfoot… He’d admit that he was still working on the name, but the premise was accurate.

Suddenly, the back of his neck began to prickle, and he stopped speaking mid-sentence to swivel his gaze to the left, seeking out her gaze.

_Lily_.

She had come.

His mouth actually went a little dry as he looked at her.

James gave her a long once over, unable to stop his stare from lingering.

“If you’ll excuse me, William,” James said, completely forgetting his manners and not even glancing at the man before he headed in her direction.

_Gods, she looks beautiful,_ James thought. And it wasn’t just the dress, though his traitorous eyes did keep flicking down to the _sweet_ curves of her hips, but rather her eyes that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from. And even though he knew that Sirius would take the _absolute_ mickey out of him right now if his friend got a good look at him—or, Merlin forbid, hear his thoughts—James couldn’t help but start thinking of the ridiculous poetry that he could write in their honor.

_Eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad… _his mind supplied, and then, quite frankly, he wanted to Avada himself. How dare that be all he could come up with? Resisting the urge to actually slap himself, he pulled himself from his thoughts so he wouldn’t run into anyone on the trek towards her.

_Her eyes though_, he sighed, unable to stop himself. She had lined them in dark makeup and they had, impossibly, become even brighter and more piercing. _Like emeralds that have been freshly shined, _he mused.

Better. That was better. Not his best work, but better than comparing them to _toads_, for Godric’s sake.

Her hair was half pulled up, and the two curled pieces lingering on either side of her face would be making James exercise his restraint all night long, as he knew his fingers would be itching to brush the soft red strands behind her ears. Her dress was black, and she was shimmering slightly in the light with every slight shift of her person.

He finally reached her without knowing what he was going to say, and a blush slowly crept up his neck the longer he stood there in silence.

“Hello, James,” she said, smiling cutely at him.

“Right—hi, Lily,” he stuttered. “You—um, wow, you look _great_. _Really_ great. _Stunning_, actually.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking down and clearing her throat. “Uh, y-you look good, too. Very handsome.”

If James could see himself—as if he were having an out of body experience, or watching this interaction on replay, like with the Omnioculars used for professional Quidditch matches—he’d have been yelling at himself now, shouting, _do something, you poser! You’re dropping the Quaffle here!_

He had no proper thoughts in his head, though—all of them flying out of his ears the longer he looked at her, and he was almost incapable of speech at all. Now that he was this close to her, close enough to reach out and grab her hand if he were bolder, he saw that her dress was not all a solid black, but rather a see-through mesh-like material on the arms and chest— he could actually see her skin through it, and he spotted the dark freckle just above the crook of her elbow that he’d imagined kissing too many times. He also came to an immediate conclusion as to why she was sparkling: there were small black beads sewn into the fabric, and they caught the light whenever she shifted. (It was also good to know that he wasn’t _completely_ losing it and imagining her as angel-like and glowing—it was just gems… good for his sanity.)

He looked around, desperately searching for a way to avoid standing there in silence, and his eyes landed on the tables piled high with food.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked.

She nodded and turned to lead the way to the food, and James had to remind himself to _walk_. Part of her dress was simply _missing_, and her pale skin was revealed from her neck all the way to the middle of her back. Her hair was longer now than it was the last time he had taken a real look at it, just grazing the small of her back, and it covered most of her revealed flesh; though, in James’s mind, it was more intriguing that way because with every step she took, her hair would sway and tease the sight of more of her skin. James, feeling like a bit of a cad for essentially ogling her, stepped up beside her so he could look at other things—which was actually a good thing for the stability of his mind, not to mention the fit of his trousers.

James grabbed two clean plates when they reached the tables, and he held them out while Lily piled them full of food. She kept shooting him smiles and small glances as she did this, and he gave her one back when she added an extra helping of treacle tart to her own plate.

“I _can_ hold my own plate, you know?” she eventually said.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours, now would we?”

She rolled her eyes, and James felt his grin grow, unable to stop it.

“If it makes you feel better, you can carry the drinks,” he added.

“Deal,” she replied, already scrutinizing the arrangement of drinks. Pouring a healthy portion of Pumpkin Juice into two goblets, and then groaning when she realized she had overlooked the hot chocolate, Lily shrugged and turned to face him. He gestured in the direction of the back patio.

“Do you eat out here all the time?” she asked him, choosing a table and setting their drinks down.

“Oh, _no_, that’d be way too much of a hassle,” James replied, taking the seat next to her. “This is actually pretty far from the kitchen—and I hate how formal it is. My family usually eats in either the kitchen or the den… _occasionally_, we eat in the dining room, but only if my mum decides to make a larger meal.”

“Hmm,” Lily acknowledged, nodding. “Your house is _huge_,” she then mused, looking over her shoulder and craning her neck to look at said house. “I knew you had money, and obviously I was here about a week ago, but pulling up your driveway and seeing the _whole_ house, and not just the few corridors that I wandered around in while I was here, is a _way_ different experience. _And_ you never told me your father was a potioneer! And that he invented _Sleakeazys_! How is your hair always a disaster if your family literally _owned_ a hair care company?”

He was laughing as he replied. “It’s a lot of work to use that stuff every day. Plus it’s sticky. And it makes your hair look greasy sometimes.”

She snorted. “Always so vain, Potter.”

.:..:.

The clock was creeping past 11:45 when James and his friends abandoned the dance floor, breathing heavily with exertion and happy to be reunited. While the band took a break to mingle and eat, James’s parents had set up the wireless, and they had been tirelessly dancing along to its tinny emissions for the last hour. The moment that he had been waiting—slightly dreading—had yet to come, as every song since his dinner had been upbeat and the best atmosphere for group dancing—nothing where he could pull her close and breathe her in.

“Petunia!” Lily greeted, collapsing into a seat next to her sister and looking very out of breath—a pretty flush highlighting her cheeks. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to dance?”

“I’m positive,” her sister replied stiffly, as if she refused to admit that she was (at least semi) enjoying herself.

“Your choice,” Lily shrugged, “but the offer is always there. Hey Mum! Dad! How’s your night been? You having fun?”

“Very much so,” her mother replied, sitting primly in one of the straight-backed chairs that James only ever saw when his folks were hosting a party. “I know that this is your world—the one that you’re used to—but I’ve never seen so much magic in my life, and this is slightly surreal—to be here with all of… _this.”_

“I can imagine,” James replied, nodding to both of Lily’s parents in greeting and taking the open seat across from Lily. “We’re really glad that you could make it, despite how overwhelming some of this must be. I hope my father isn’t bombarding you with too many questions?”

Mrs. Evans smiled politely. “Not at all, James. It’s very interesting to me that Wizards don’t have some of the things that we use every single day. Your father’s friends talked with Edward for _ages_ about his job—apparently you have nothing similar to it at all.”

As James opened his mouth to respond, Sirius flounced over and collapsed dramatically onto James’s lap—ignoring the two open seats at the table completely.

“Well, hello there, Padfoot,” James greeted, amused.

“Hey, Prongsie,” Sirius sighed, snatching James’s water and downing the rest of it in one go. “It’s good to see you again, Rose, Edward, Petunia,” he greeted, nodding at each of Lily’s family members. “And Lily, I must say that you look absolutely _smashing_ tonight.”

“Why, thank you, Sirius,” Lily replied. “You look very dapper, as well.”

“Now _that,_” Sirius replied, with yet another sigh, “is entirely a matter of opinion.”

“Who said otherwise?” Lily demanded, and James himself frowned slightly. “I’ll hex ‘em! Just point me in the right direction! I’ve been itching to try out that new Bat-Bogey one that I just read about.”

“Me! I said otherwise, so hex away Lils!” Sirius groaned, leaning back against James and practically smothering him with his hair. James sputtered, trying to get said hair out of his mouth, and rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics—yet, he still listened intently as Sirius continued speaking. “These dress robes are _horrid._ Absolutely _horrid!_ Of course, my _darling_ mother picked them out, and then she _ruined_ them the night of my unannounced arrival at your house, James— annoyingly, things never look the same once they need to be sewn up. Worst of all, they’ve got fucking _snakes_ embroidered on the hems because that woman’s incapable of purchasing _anything_ that doesn’t immediately scream, ‘Hello world! I’m a blood purist, and I practice Dark Magic on my kids for fun! If it wasn’t obvious by my ugly face and the snakes on my clothing, I’m a horrible fucking person!’”

“Sirius?” Lily’s mother inquired softly. “Are you okay, honey?”

There were two beats of silence before Sirius blinked rapidly, as if trying to forcefully clear his mind.

“Sorry, Rose.” Sirius smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I’m fine—just being obnoxious as usual.”

“It’s not obnoxious at all,” Rose soothed. “Especially if it’s about something that’s actually bothering you.”

“Right,” Sirius replied quickly, shifting minutely on James’s lap, obviously uncomfortable.

James was looking at his best friend, craning his neck around and studying his side profile intently, so he knew that Sirius was not, in fact, fine—or anywhere in the realm of that word. James, having years of friendship with Sirius under his belt, knew exactly the right way to reroute his friend’s thoughts and distract him.

“Okay, up, up, up,” James demanded, smacking his friend lightly on the sides and shoving him slightly. “Take those robes off.”

“At least buy me dinner first, love,” Sirius quipped.

“I’m being serious,” James insisted. “Take—”

“You’re not Sirius,” Sirius said slowly, as if talking to a small child. “_I _am Sirius. You are _James._”

James let out a long-suffering sigh and closed his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling and praying for patience. Lily’s mother and sister both let out a snort of laughter while Lily herself groaned right along with James, having heard this particular joke too many times. James, rather than responding, began unbuttoning his own robes. He shucked it off and began unbuttoning his shirt as well.

“Whoa, what is happening right now?” Lily asked, obviously startled. “And can it happen elsewhere?”

“I’m trading dress robes with Sirius,” James said simply. “And if he doesn’t do it here, in front of everyone, then they’ll be no real pressure and he won’t do it all.”

“I am _not_ trading clothes with you,” Sirius said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture and sinking back into James’s vacated seat. “First off, your style is totally different than mine, and you literally tower over me. I’ll spare myself the humiliation of walking around in robes that I’ll be tripping over, thank you very much. Not to mention, that color _totally_ doesn’t work for me.”

“Oh shut up and strip,” Remus said, finally wandering over from the food table and taking a seat next to Lily’s father, shaking his hand. James saw him introducing himself to Lily’s mother and sister, too, but James refused to fully look away from Sirius.

James was smirking now, though, knowing that Sirius had a very hard time saying no to Remus about anything. Slowly, and with a scowl on his face, Sirius began undoing his robes.

“Shut up,” he muttered when he saw James’s satisfied smile. Sirius even went so far as to wad up his robes and throw them at James’s face.

“None of this would have happened if you’d just gotten rid of those things in the first place,” James reminded with a smile.

“Oh, _yeah,”_ Sirius scoffed. “That would’ve been real beneficial for me—you know, being disowned and having no money to my name, or any way to acquire said money, and trashing the only pair of dress robes that I own. Smart, James. Real smart. I can see why Evans is ahead of you in class ranking, Prongs. Seems she’ll be both the brains _and_ the pants in this relationship.”

“Oh, leave us alone, Sirius. I–”

“Relationship?” Lily’s mother inquired, zeroing in on the word and interrupting her daughter mid-sentence. Lily’s face was beet red at the simple word—either from embarrassment (which James hoped wasn’t the case), or at the implications of it (which he rather _did_ hope was the case).

“He’s just messing with us like usual, Mrs. Evans,” James assured, hoping to spare not only Lily, but also himself from any invasive hard-to-answer questions. “We’re not together, no worries. Just friends.”

“Not together, _yet,”_ Sirius corrected, the distinct twinkle of revenge in his eyes. “As long as I’m the best man at your wedding, I don’t care what you call yourselves at the moment.”

“Must you, Sirius?” Lily groaned.

“Hey, your _friend_ is the one making me take my clothes off in a room full of people,” Sirius responded. “Guess he should have thought things through before he did this, huh?”

“Oh, please.” Lily laughed. “The only person more arrogant about his looks than Potter is you, Sirius. Let’s not pretend that you weren’t waiting for the chance to show off.”

Sirius, apparently finding her statement too truthful to offer an objection to, just shook his head and finally pulled his dress shirt off. Sirius, much like himself and every other player on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was built like an athlete, with strong shoulders, muscled arms, and a firm chest. Really, the only difference between James and his best friend were the myriad of tattoos that covered Sirius’s chest. James was, by now, well accustomed to their existence, and he knew immediately that the swirling design on his left ribs was new.

“Hey!” Lily interjected, speaking before James could and pointing at the fresh tattoo. “That’s a new one! What’d you do? Get another one in the _five_ days between Christmas and New Year’s?”

“I did this one myself actually,” Sirius replied, twisting his torso so he could get a better look at it. “Conjured up a machine and did it two days ago.”

“So you broke the law to give yourself a tattoo?” Lily inquired, raising a single eyebrow. “That sounds about right.”

“Technically, even though he _did_ break the law,” Remus began, “there’s so much magic going on in this house at any given moment that there’s no way the Ministry could know that it was him that did it. The trace is really finicky, actually, but the Ministry doesn’t want people to know that.”

Lily immediately looked delighted, and she even did a little bounce in her seat. Seeing the smile on her face, James wished that he’d been the one to tell her this loophole.

“I’ve never done magic outside school!” Lily said. “Mum, Dad, what do you want to see?”

James hadn’t thought of this before—Lily never being able to show her family what she’s learned, only able to tell them about it. His parents were wizards, obviously, and they were content with only hearing about his lessons—having experienced them themselves. He couldn’t imagine having never heard of magic before, and then having a child that can do it, but not _do it _when at home. He wasn’t sure if he’d believe anything his kid said if he were in Lily’s parents’ position.

“Are you sure, Lily?” her mother asked, obviously skeptical. “I’ve read those notes that they send home with you, and I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry Rose,” Sirius said with a smile. Then, without any warning, he sent a very mild stinging hex James’s way, nipping him on his arm.

“Ouch!” James grunted, jumping more from surprise than actual pain.

As Sirius and Remus both laughed, Peter off somewhere else still, James muttered, “You forget that I know where you sleep, Padfoot.”

“Oh, that was a wee baby hex, mate, don’t get all up in arms,” Sirius chortled, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture and shrugging on James’s button down. James did the same with Sirius’s, acutely aware of the way Lily’s gaze kept darting to his bare chest and away again. “Show ‘em some fancy transfiguration, Evans.”

Lily grabbed James’s empty water glass and turned towards her parents. “Pick an animal—any animal, as long as it’s little.”

“How about a bunny, dear?” her mother asked, her eyes sparkling as she adjusted in her seat to get a closer look. “That’s what magicians are always pulling out of hats, anyway.”

“Perfect.” Lily smiled. “What color, Tuney?”

Petunia looked like she’d rather not answer, and given her track record with magic, James wasn’t very surprised. But she eventually said, “Blue,” albeit grudgingly.

Lily, doing that cute little thing with her nose that James always looked for in class, lifted her wand and steadily said the incantation. Slowly, and then all at once, the glass turned into a small blue bunny and began hopping playfully across the tabletop.

“Fantastic!” Lily’s father exclaimed. “How long will it stay like that?”

“Well that depends on a lot of different things,” Lily said. “Mostly, how much magic I put into it, but every transfiguration spell is reversed if the caster dies.”

“And,” James couldn’t help but add, “it’s reliant upon what you’re transfiguring. For example, if she were to have transfigured, say, a pocket watch into a bunny, it would last much longer because the pocket watch is already more complex than a simple glass.”

“Right,” Lily nodded. “I was going to say that.”

James smiled. “Sure you were, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she replied automatically, though he was happy to notice that the words didn’t have as much of a bite to them as they usually did.

“Okay,” Sirius interrupted. “Someone fix these robes immediately, or I’m taking them back off.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Remus droned, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Come stand on this chair, and I’ll sever them for you.”

“Sever them?” Sirius yelled. “Don’t give me a hack job, I have a reputation to maintain!”

“Yeah, a reputation of being annoying,” Remus muttered, but Sirius continued as if Remus hadn’t even spoken.

“And these are _Sartoria!_ You can’t just _destroy_ them!”

“For Godric’s sake, Padfoot, just get over here before I change my mind.”

Sirius put on a good show of being huffy, but James knew better. As James re-took the open seat next to Lily, he was watching their interaction very closely. Lily, who was still chatting to her parents about Transfiguration, was oblivious to how intently James was invested in this small moment.

As Remus began to cut off the extra few inches, Sirius stood ramrod straight—whether it be from Remus’s proximity or because he wanted the hem line to be even, James didn’t know.

Remus was crouched back on his haunches, his wand held steady. Piece by piece, parts of the robes fell away, and they curled into rolls onto the hardwood.

“Looking good, Padfoot,” Peter claimed, collapsing into Remus’s vacated seat with a plate of dinner. “Not at all messy.”

“Shut your yap, Pete,” Remus threatened, sitting fully on the floor as, presumably, his achy knees gave out.

“Remus I–” Sirius frantically began, only to be cut off by Remus.

“I promise you, you still look amazing. You looked great in the snake robes and you’ll look great in these ones. Please calm down, all is well.”

James eyed the blush on Sirius’s cheeks and grinned unabashedly. Remus waved his wand again, wordlessly, and conjured a needle and thread. James, not the least bit shocked by Remus’s magical skill, _was_ a little shocked that the hem job was actually turning out perfectly. It was almost as if the robes had been purchased that way.

“This is amazing, dear,” Lily’s mother spoke. “I can imagine how much easier my life would be if I had this at my disposal. Think of all the hours saved, Edward—all the shirts and socks saved!”

“Give me another couple of months, and I’ll do all your hemming, Mum,” Lily said, smiling.

“You’re all set, Sirius,” Remus said, looking up from the floor. Sirius hopped down from the chair, and extended a hand to his friend—pulling Remus steadily to his feet.

James was still watching them intently—being none too subtle about it either—but the two boys were too engrossed in each other to notice his blatant staring. Sirius mumbled something too low for James to hear, and a quiet smile blossomed on Remus’s face—and even though the smile was accompanied by an eyeroll, the gesture was distinctly fond. Remus began walking towards the drinks table, and after three seconds of staring after him, Sirius joined him.

“Sirius told me that he ‘slipped up’ when he was staying with you for the weekend, and you know about him now,” James whispered. “That he’s gay.”

“‘Slipped up’ was really what he said, wasn’t it?” Lily laughed. “Yeah, he told me—and I’m happy he did. I’ve always had my suspicions just based on the way he stares at—I mean, based on a couple different things, but I’m proud of him that he finally felt comfortable enough to say it.”

James was smiling. “Let’s back up to that sentence you cut off… you had your suspicions based on the way he stares at…?”

She gave him a very dry look. “Stop being coy, you know who I’m talking about—I just don’t want to jinx it by speaking it into existence.”

James’s smile, impossibly, grew. “Fair enough.”

He was watching his two friends argue over the drinks table, and it was only the way that Remus tilted his head that gave away the fact that the argument wasn’t real—that there was no heat behind it. They looked like they always did, and James hoped he wasn’t reading too much into Remus’s actions—only seeing what he wanted to see. Remus’s gaze did linger, right?

“Per your decree,” James began again, “I will not speak their names but I _do_ have a plan—Marauder style and _everything_.”

“I’m unsurprised.” Lily smiled, leaning her head on her hand and looking up at him through her impossibly long lashes. “May I be privy to this plan, oh infamous Marauder?”

“Well, in all honesty, the plan is a little… _underdeveloped_… but Operation Moonfoot _will _be a success.”

“Moonfoot?” Lily quirked an eyebrow. “Good Lord, surely you can do better than that, Potter?”

“It needs a little work, I’ll admit,” James conceded, running his hand across his mouth in an attempt to wipe the smile from it.

She gave a soft hum and stared very intently at Remus and Sirius.

“How about… Wolfstar?” she asked, tilting her head as she joined him in their (somewhat) stealthy observation of the two boys across the room. “You know, because _he’s_ named after a star called—well, a _star_ in the Canis Major constellation. And—ah—the _other one_ has a furry little problem—meaning _wolf_. Put them together and—voilà! —_Wolfstar._”

“_Perfect,_” James breathed. “I love it: Operation Wolfstar. You’re officially on the team, Lils.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and James looked around—movement out of the corner of his eye snagging his attention. The band were resuming their position on the raised dais, picking up their instruments and settling in. When soft music once again emitted from their instruments, a few couples began migrating to the dance floor. He watched his mother and father sway peacefully—a soft smile in his mother’s eyes as she gazed at her husband—and Lily’s parents also joined the floor, their hands clasped tightly and Lily’s mother’s head resting on her husband’s chest—their height difference large even with the tiny heels Mrs. Evans was wearing.

James, at this moment, was no longer nervous about asking Lily to dance. Seeing all these other couples partake in the action without hesitation boosted his confidence. Why shouldn’t he ask her to dance? There was nothing stopping him but himself, and they’ve had a nice night so far—wonderful even—with no awkwardness or fights (which, actually, the avoidance of the latter was a feat that he was rather proud of).

“Will you dance with me, Lily?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation. “We are rather good at it.”

They were both smiling as James took her hand and led her to the floor. He hesitated only briefly, right before they were about to get into position, only because he remembered the missing part of her dress.

“Lil?” he asked. “This is likely a weird question, but I’d like to make sure: would you rather have my hand higher on your back, or lower—just because I don’t want to touch your bare skin if you don’t want me to. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

James, not expecting her eyes to regain some of their fire after this question, was slightly taken aback by how blazing they suddenly became. He was worried that he shouldn’t have asked that—that it was a question he already should’ve known the answer to. But then she stepped forward, right into his chest—leaving no room for air—and placed her small hand on the back of his neck. He was still holding her left hand in his, but his right hand hung stupidly down at his side.

“Surprise me,” she whispered.

His breath caught, but he did his best to ignore it as he lifted his hand and settled it in the small of her back, halfway on her silky dress and halfway on her bare back—a compromise. When she raised a single eyebrow, questioning it, James smirked—hoping to cover his breathlessness by the action.

“I couldn’t decide,” he murmured. “Either option was too tempting, so I settled for both.”

A flush was steadily rising on her chest—visible even through the mesh material of her dress—and she, impossibly, drew closer to him, and he felt the shift in her muscles as she stood as tall as she could. He was staring at her, and watching her redden slowly, the lovely flush on her cheeks doing wicked things to his brain. Forget the exerted flush, or the happy flush, or the angry flush—which he always associated as her _best_ flush—because _this_ was better. The way her eyes were darker than normal, and her breathing was just a tad too shallow. The way that her nails scratched small circles into the base of his neck, trailing slightly into his hairline and twirling the short curling strands around her fingers.

The way that _this_ flush was brought on because of him—his proximity and his actions.

He was _soaring_ through the clouds—making a pit-stop on cloud nine and hoping that he’d never have to fall back to Earth.

They began to dance, James leading them across their small circle of space. He was loath to spin her—for selfish reasons obviously (namely he didn’t want to lose their proximity)—but his desire to see her happy overpowered his own needs, and she always smiled beatifically after a good spin. He clasped her hand tightly and twirled her around, her hair trailing behind her like fire. As she glided back into his chest, his hand landed higher on her back, and he couldn’t help but trace his fingers over her flesh.

Goosebumps trailed his fingers and her hand tightened on the back of his neck.

“I do love to dance with you,” she spoke, her voice almost too soft to hear over the music. “I just thought you should know.”

He leaned in close and spoke directly into her ear, never stopping his movements and honestly marveling at his own ability to multitask. “I love to dance with you, too. It’s easier to dance with a partner with whom you have… chemistry with.”

“Chemistry, huh?” she wondered. “Is that what we’re calling this, then?”

He twirled her again, buying himself time to formulate a proper response.

“I think that’s as good a word as any,” he settled on once she was back in the circle of his arms. “I can name a few others if you’d like—captivation, magnetism, allure, devotion… _attraction.”_

Their eyes locked and as Lily opened her mouth to respond, the crowd began counting down. They were closer to midnight than he’d thought, and Lily turned away from him to stare at the numbers ticking lower in the middle of the room—a timer conjured to hover in the middle of the dance floor. His hand slid down her back as she turned, and he bravely let it settle on her hip.

This was the first time since he’d asked her to dance that his palms began sweating. It all of a sudden became very real, and that the last five minutes hadn’t been a dream at all—that he’d really said all of those things to her. Midnight was _here_ and he was still unsure on his course of action. He felt he’d already pushed his luck, and he was unlikely to continue to be this bold even though Lily had given him no indication that she wasn’t okay with it.

He pulled his hand away and wiped both of his palms on his robes.

“Ten! Nine!” the crowd shouted.

Lily spun back to him, her eyes wide and wild. She snatched his arm and dragged him across the dance floor, finally cloistering them in one of the only two alcoves in the ballroom.

“Seven! Six!” the crowd shouted, their voices filled with excitement as Lily closed the drapes—hiding them in semi-darkness.

James’s heart was beating out of his chest, and his turbulent gaze met Lily’s own. Her breaths were shallow and quick—rivaling what they were on the dance floor—and her beautiful blush was spreading up her chest as she stared—oh, _Merlin_—as she stared at his lips. Wow, this was really happening. His mouth was dry, and his hands were trembling as he reached for her. He slid one (now, thankfully, dry) hand from the nape of her neck all the way down her bare spine, splaying it across her skin and soaking up the blissful heat of it.

With his other hand, he finally, _finally_, tucked the stray strand of her glossy hair behind her ear.

“Four! Three!” the crowd continued to shout.

James slowly leaned toward her, and he felt her small hands clutching desperately at his waist. She rose hesitantly to her tip toes and their noses brushed, soft as a butterfly’s wing beat. He was breathing heavily now too, his heart feeling as though it’d burst from his chest, and the heat from her body was driving him utterly wild. He pulled her closer and pressed his lips firmly to her cheek, lingering there for the final second of the countdown as she tightened her hands into fists—her nails digging deliciously into his side.

“One,” she breathed, her shaky exhale ghosting over his ear, sending tingles down his spine and goosebumps across his neck.

His eyes had been closed as he pulled back, brushing his nose softly across her cheekbone as he did so; he opened his eyes now, though, to look at her—closer to her in this moment than he’d ever dreamed he’d be, in this life or in any other. Tentatively, he cupped her cheek and softly swiped his thumb across her bottom lip.

She was shaking slightly as she leaned into his palm, closing her eyes contentedly. And it was that tender act that finally sent the rest of his breath from his lungs—as if he’d taken a direct hit from a Bludger.

_Gods,_ he couldn’t even _breathe_ when he looked at her.

“Happy New Year’s, Lily Evans,” he whispered, careful to speak quietly so as not to shatter the moment.

Then James leaned in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing out the words canis major and having flashbacks to my astronomy 205 class: AHHHAJSDJFJKLASKHF
> 
> side note: am i officially reaching slow burn excellence?? i say yes, but i’m biased. and lily getting turned on by james asking permission to touch her? relatable as hell, honey.
> 
> also, i had to slip in the bit about the ship name. i mean, come on!! name a softer ship name than ‘wolfstar’, i’ll wait… AND AND AND ginny's fresh-pickled-toad poem is peak comedy and we all know harry has his mother's eyes...
> 
> this is my longest chapter yet, and i cannot begin to tell you how difficult it was to write this—i literally cut so much out :(( BUT there will be a new year’s eve part two chapter that will have all the rest of the goodies :))


	16. New Year's Eve Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the New Year's countdown, the gang plays a drinking game and more romance ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lily's mother gets a pov this chapter, and i'm excited for everyone to read it!

_“True love cannot be found where it does not truly exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does.” – _Kissing a Fool

Staring at the string lights dangling from the trees in the Potter’s backyard, and at the multitude of people mingling through the waist-high hedges, Ailana finally admitted to herself that they did not seem real—it almost as if she were watching the night play out like a Muggle picture-show. Those small white bulbs, charmed to shine bright all night, provided a sharp contrast to the darkness that was swirling around inside of Ailana—just like they stuck out of the darkness of the almost-midnight sky. Everything around her still felt as if it were moving in slow motion—the partygoers voices sliding through her ears like sludge.

She hadn’t spoken all night. Hadn’t wanted to, really, as there’d been nothing substantial she felt like saying.

She knew that coming to this New Year’s Party was going to be a mistake—that she was going to regret getting out of her bed and walking down the stairs. Though her sister—_my _only_ remaining family_, she thought—had talked her into attending, and who was Ailana to think she could say no to Maria? Her sister, who wasn’t feeling particularly festive either, had done much of the same as Ailana at this party—hiding away, crying in different corners of Potter Manor as happy families mingled around her.

This was actually the first time that Ailana had ventured out of her room in the guest quarters of Potter Manor since she’d arrived a week previously. Everything had seemed too loud—too homey and too loving and too _separate_—for her to fit in properly. Didn’t anyone _know_ what had happened? How could they have their too-large smiles plastered on their faces when her life was in shambles? How could they dance and laugh when nothing would _ever_ be the same again?

Per the dress code of the evening, Ailana had shucked off her leggings and jumper and traded them for the ‘party outfit’ that her sister had dug up. Sitting on the patio, Ailana wore black slacks and a black button down with red thread, having no fancy dresses or proper wizarding dress robes that she could’ve donned. The clothes she wore tonight were entirely Muggle, and if she thought too long on why she owned Muggle clothing, she’d think of her brother. She’d think of how her family was attempting to integrate him into the Muggle community as easily as possible because, as a squib, he would be more welcomed there. If she thought too long on it, she’d remember that her brother was gone—that all of their careful and loving preparations were for nothing.

Everything was for nothing.

Ailana finished the glass of champagne that her sister had plied her with and vacated her chair in search of a different dark corner or abandoned room, needing to be alone—or rather, more alone than she already was.

Sequestering herself in a dim corner—hidden behind yet another tastefully decorated pine tree—she hunched over. Ailana pressed her hands against her sides, pushing as if she could somehow fit her ribs back into their proper place. She then placed a hand against her heart, feeling its erratic heart beat—_thump, thump-thump, thump, thump-thump-thump—_and clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid that she would vomit.

Would this ever end? Would she ever feel normal again?

“Ailana?” a soothing voice inquired. Someone began rubbing small circles into her back in a valiant attempt at comfort. How would she tell this kind-hearted stranger that no one brought her comfort anymore?

“It’s okay, just breathe,” instructed the stranger—but it wasn’t a stranger, and Ailana recognized the other person as soon as the simple black ballet flats came into view.

Ailana knew it was Marlene without even having to stand up and face her. She leaned into her friend, and Marlene accepted her weight easily, wrapping the arm that wasn’t around her back around her chest in an awkward hug—that was more support to make sure Ailana didn’t fall than anything else. Marlene said nothing else and Ailana was grateful that she wasn’t asking any questions—especially the inane ones like ‘how are you doing?’ and ‘can I get you anything?’

Eventually, Ailana straightened out and rested her back against the wall, closing her damp eyes and tilting her head towards the ceiling. Without looking, Ailana fished an object out of her pocket. It was a carved piece of wood—a silver knight atop a brown horse—and Ailana had not parted with it since… since it all happened. For some odd reason, her brother’s toy calmed her, almost as if it tricked her brain into thinking that he wasn’t really gone and he’d simply asked her to fetch it for him from the other room.

Running her thumb over the small nick atop the knight’s helmet—that the poor knight sustained in a heavy battle between the Army of Atlantis and the Marchers of Meridian—Ailana took a deep fortifying breath and finally opened her eyes. There was sympathy and sadness swirling around her friend’s eyes when Ailana looked to her. Marlene was holding securely to Ailana’s hand, and she gave it a tight squeeze when they made eye contact.

“Have you eaten tonight, Ailana?” Marlene asked, her voice still low and soothing.

“Not yet, no,” Ailana replied, forcing herself to speak—to get the words past her chapped lips. “Haven’t really felt up to it, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand the lack of appetite, but let’s get some food in you, okay?”

Nodding, Ailana allowed Marlene to drag her towards the food laden tables. The Potter’s had gone all out for New Year’s—exactly like they usually did—but it was only this year that Ailana saw it to be excessive. Ailana kept her thoughts on the matter to herself however, knowing they stemmed from sadness and anger rather than truth.

Marlene began filling a single plate full of food, stacking all the comforts on top of each other—pasta, bread, cheese rolls, chips covered in garlic butter and salt. Ailana skipped to the end of the tables and filled two goblets with Butterbeer—knowing that her mother wouldn’t want her to have more champagne this soon after finishing a flute of it— “No need to be the drunk woman at the party, Ailana, as it’s much more fun to observe the drunkenness of others,” her mother would say.

Finding a table towards the back, one safely nestled in the corner, Ailana took a seat—feeling only slightly bad for abandoning Marlene but knowing that her friend knew her well enough to look for her here. Sure enough, Marlene perched on the seat next to her two minutes later, clutching two forks in her hands and politely handing one of them to Ailana.

They ate in silence, and Ailana caught glimpses of Lily, James, Sirius, and Peter dancing in the middle of the ballroom to a Weird Sisters song that, ironically, Ailana hated no matter the mood she was in. It was nearing a quarter to midnight when the plate in front of them was cleared, and Ailana was surprised to see she’d eaten her fair share. As she drained the dregs of her Butterbeer, she could feel Marlene watching her.

“Come on,” Marlene said once Ailana looked at her questioningly. Leaving the empty plate and goblets on the table, Ailana found herself, once again, following Marlene out of the ballroom. “I figured you could use a little more silence.”

Nodding gratefully, and not even knowing that she’d needed yet another change of scenery as they stepped out of the ballroom, Ailana propped her hip against the wall, facing her friend. They didn’t speak as they stood there, just basked in the comfortable silence that permeated the air. Eventually, classical music began tinkling out of the ballroom, the band apparently having retaken their places on the dais.

“Thank you,” Ailana whispered, looking up at her friend. “Thank you for just being here, and for not forcing me to talk.”

“Of course,” Marlene replied, her voice equally as soft. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The delicate smile that curled around Marlene’s pink-painted lips sent a little jolt through Ailana. All of Marlene was delicate, actually—all tender grace and soft skin and gentle lines. Looking at Marlene now—clad in billowy layers of pink silk and her hair curling crazily behind her ears—Ailana felt excessively dark in contrast. Not only because she wore all black, but because she felt as if her soul was just as dark.

“You look very pretty tonight, Marley,” Ailana complimented, stating it baldly like the truth that it was.

“Thank you,” Marlene said, blushing like she usually did after a compliment flew her way.

It was then, as Ailana heard the crowd inside start counting down, that she realized she could use some of that light at the moment. Ailana jumped the gun a little, and when the crowd began the ten second countdown to the New Year, Ailana surged forward and caught her friend’s lips between her own.

Marlene stiffened immediately, but some innate part of Ailana knew that the stiffening was from surprise and not dislike—or worse, disgust. It took Marlene all of half a second before she began tentatively kissing Ailana back. Ailana pushed Marlene back against the wall and a breathy sound escaped her as her back hit the wood. Stepping closer so their chests brushed, it was Ailana’s turn to let out a sigh. Clasping her cheek in a slightly clammy palm, Ailana ran her tongue over the seam of Marlene’s lips and then threaded her fingers through Marlene’s hair—one hand having not left Marlene’s hip since this all began.

Ailana was almost completely lost in the sensation of Marlene’s soft lips against hers, but she pulled back with a sharp gasp when she heard the crowd’s volume increase from inside as they reached the final three beats of the countdown

“Oh my Godric,” Marlene breathed, almost too softly for Ailana to hear.

Shock then rippled through Ailana in a hot wave. She couldn’t believe she’d just done that, that she had just _used _one of her friends because she’d felt lonely and sad and in need of comfort.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that.” Ailana stepped back, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

Ailana turned and ran back through the ballroom, seeking someplace she could duck out of sight and avoid the humiliation that was sure to follow when Marlene told her not to do that again. Dashing through the crowd of people yelling “Happy New Year!” and kissing each other on the cheeks, Ailana dove behind a curtain and stumbled head first into two people. Ailana shouted in surprise at the sudden presence of others in this small alcove and then exclaimed again when she realized it was James who had caught her and Lily who was looking at her in concern.

“Good Lord, you scared me half to death, Ailana,” Lily gasped. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, where’s the fire?” James asked, his voice extremely hoarse.

Noticing the red of Lily’s cheeks, the proximity of her two friends, and the more than usual disheveled-ness of James’s hair, Ailana groaned then promptly burst into tears.

“You guys were kissing, oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry—I interrupted your first kiss,” Ailana cried, ignoring the shocked look on Lily’s face at the abnormal amount of tears now on Ailana’s cheeks. “And I just ruined a five-year friendship! Then I ruined _your_ five years of tension that led to this moment! Good Godric, someone stun me immediately. Please someone put me out of my misery so I can’t do any other idiotic thing.”

“Take a breath,” Lily instructed, wrapping her much smaller frame around Ailana and squeezing her tightly. “Everything is okay. You’ve ruined absolutely nothing, and you’ve interrupted absolutely nothing. We didn’t even get to the kissing part, actually, and you’re _much _more important right now.”

Processing almost none of that, Ailana let Lily hold her and let James place a heavy, comforting hand on her shoulder.

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

“Please, Rose, I _insist,”_ Mia said. “I’m appalled that we didn’t think of this beforehand! Imagine flying—I mean _driving _at this hour? I wager those contraptions are dangerous enough in the daylight, so there’s no need to make it even more so by operating it in the wee hours of the morning. _Especially _after a glass of champagne. I don’t trust myself to even _Floo _after a glass of Dom, and all that requires of me is to stand up properly and speak normally.” Mia laughed.

_It was rather late_, Rose mused, trailing along behind Mia Potter as the larger-than-life woman wound through the hallways of her manor, her wand clutched in her hand. This was a new section of the house, Rose noted as they passed by a portrait whose occupant tipped his hat in greeting and winked at her—_winked_. Most guests had left a half hour after the clock had struck midnight—only a select few continuing to chat around the circular tables—and just when Edward was headed off to fetch their errant red-headed daughter, Mia and Monty had insisted they stay over. Rose had left the decision, ultimately, up to her husband since he would be the one behind the wheel. Edward was happy enough to agree, so long as both daughters were also in agreement, before re-entering the conversation about fishing that he had extricated himself from in order to speak to her. Petunia, though Rose knew her daughter was already completely out of her comfort zone, had been tired enough to concede to staying the night as well.

Rose, having left both Edward and Petunia behind in the ballroom, her husband’s tie loosened and her daughter with her head resting on his shoulder, was now in pursuit of Lily in order to assess her thoughts on the matter.

“Goodness,” Mia harrumphed. “I should have realized that this is where they’d be. This is Sirius’s favorite room in the house.”

They had paused in front of yet another solid oak door, but this one was cracked enough that voices were filtering clearly out of it rather than being locked behind the wood as mere murmurs. Rose recognized her daughter’s laugh immediately.

“Shall we listen?” Mia asked, waggling her eyebrows conspiratorially. “It’s always interesting to hear what our children say when they think we’re not listening. And I so rarely get the chance to eavesdrop these days that I’m loathe to pass up this opportunity.”

Rose, having never really had the chance to listen in on her daughter and her friends, smiled in agreement. “Only for a minute,” Rose said, holding up a single finger. The two women turned towards the door.

“You liar!” a girl shouted through a laugh. “I did no such thing! That was all Lily and you lot know it.”

“I take offense to that,” her daughter replied. “I never would have done it if I weren’t friends with _you two_, and if anything, you’re corrupting the rest of us.”

_“Oi! _You’d all be the most boring Gryffindors to ever grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts if I wasn’t there to, quote, _‘corrupt you.’_ And Sirius is a riot, don’t hurt his feelings.”

That was James’s voice, Rose noted. The boy had a distinct way of pronouncing his H’s that set him apart from the rest of Lily’s friends.

“Who’re you–?”

“All right,” Sirius cut her daughter off. “Let’s move on before you bore us all with your flirting. It’s Remus’s turn.”

Rose smiled. She heard her daughter’s objections, and James’s quick response denying anything involving him and her daughter in a relationship, but she also saw the way they had looked at each other earlier—the way their gazes lingered just a _bit _too long to be considered casual. They reminded her of Edward and herself when they’d first met, actually—all shy glances and accidental touches that weren’t really accidental at all.

“Never have I ever gotten a P on a paper,” another boy replied—presumably Remus. He had a deep voice, and when he’d first spoken, Rose had been a little surprised. The gentle way he’d shaken her hand and the subtle smirk that had crossed his lips was in steep contrast to the low baritone of his voice.

“Cheap shot!” a girl—_maybe Marlene?_ Rose thought—protested.

“Don’t you know this game is supposed to be raunchy?” Sirius asked. “Your pureness is showing Moony! Pick something else!”

Rose and Mia were smiling at each other—though Rose was secretly hoping she didn’t find out anything _too _revealing about her daughter in the next minute. Memories from Rose’s own teenage years came roaring back as she listened—she and her friends sitting around an empty bottle of nicked whiskey, she and an old boyfriend sitting in a greasy diner, she and her friends teasing each other ‘till the early hours of the morning.

“Okay then,” Remus replied. “Never have I ever seen Lily without a shirt.”

“Cheap shot!” Sirius repeated, laughing.

“You’re _drinking?” _her daughter asked, exasperation leaking into her voice. “When have you seen me without a shirt?”

“Uh, the dress fitting?” Sirius informed. “Remember you gave me your doe eyes—practically pleading with me not to leave you alone with the Russian pin lady—and then you put the dress on… Nice birthmark on your belly, by the way.”

“Sirius Black!” her daughter shouted, laughing. There was a muffled grunt and the distinct sound of someone getting whacked with a pillow. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

“No, I said I wouldn’t ogle! And I didn’t!” Sirius defended. “And when I told you that story, Remus, I didn’t expect it to be used as _ammunition_ against me.”

“Stop being a drama queen,” her daughter drawled. “You would have to drink either way. I still can’t get over how you saw me naked.”

“You were _not_ naked. You definitely had a bra on _and_ you were very efficient with putting that dress on… I was actually a little impressed,” Sirius trailed off, his voice whimsical. “_And_ I don’t know who you think I am, Red, but I have never once gotten a P on a paper.”

Mia and Rose were both giggling quietly now at the sheer affront in Sirius’s tone.

“Weirdly, I believe you,” Lily replied, and Rose could hear the smile in her daughter’s voice. It lightened her heart to picture it. “Wait. Do I have to drink? How is that fair? It’s my own body! Of course I’ve seen it without a shirt.”

The next seconds of conversation were uttered too low to hear, but then her daughter’s voice broke the din again. “Whatever, I’ll get you all back on my turn.”

“We should probably go in now,” Rose said. “I’m starting to feel less like a mother and more like a raging gossip.”

Mia giggled again and said, “You’re right,” with a smile.

Announcing their presence with two knocks to the door, Mia breezed into the room and chirped out a jolly “Happy New Year” to the teenagers lounging around on various pieces of comfortable looking furniture. So far, every room that Rose had been in—except the ballroom—was very cozy looking. This whole house, for all its grandiose and obvious wealth, was extremely home-y and every room looked both loved and lived in. This room was no different. There was a cloistering of chairs and sofas angled towards a wooden mantle and a brick fireplace, the hearth crackling with a small fire—and it’d been a while since Rose was in a home that actually utilized the fireplace for anything other than aesthetic purposes. It was a much different sitting room than Rose had grown accustomed to, where the furniture was centered on a television. She could understand why it would be Sirius’s favorite.

“Hello, dear,” Rose greeted her daughter when Lily looked to her and smiled. “Hello, Lily’s friends. Mia has offered to let us stay the night, and I was wondering if you were all right with this, Lily? Tuney wants to leave as early as we can in the morning, but if you’re okay with it, your father would really like to avoid the drive tonight.”

There was a quick sideways glance, that Rose almost didn’t catch, between Lily and James. She suddenly recalled the look on her daughter’s face when Rose had seen her and James dancing at midnight—the glint of passion and the slight fear of the unknown reflected in her green eyes. Rose knew, as she watched them sway and spin, that she was watching her daughter fall in love. This ephemeral glance all but proved what she had already suspected.

“Yeah that’s okay, I don’t mind,” Lily assured with a smile.

Rose nodded and then glanced at the glass in her daughter’s hand. “That’s enough for tonight, though, don’t you think?”

Lily flushed and set her drink down on the coffee table in front of her, leaning over James—who was seated on the floor in front of her—to do so.

“You’re right, sorry Mum,” Lily said sheepishly.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Rose replied. She then lowered her voice. “I remember what it was like to be sixteen and surrounded by friends. A couple glasses in the safety of a home is all right. I just worry—I’m a mother, and I can’t help it.”

“Well,” Mia spoke up, and Rose turned to see her lovingly brush Sirius’s hair out of his face. Rose’s heart clenched as she watched the gesture—clenched for the kind woman with the lost hope of having a large family. “I’m going to set up Rose, Edward, and Petunia in the guest wing, and when you lot are ready to turn in, James or Sirius can show you to a room. Sound good, Lily?”

“Sounds perfect, thanks Mrs. Potter,” Lily assured.

“How many times must I tell you, darling?” Mia smiled. “Call me Mia.”

“I’ll do my best,” her daughter replied sheepishly.

.:..:.

After collecting Edward and Petunia from the ballroom, and assuring her eldest daughter that, yes, they would indeed leave as early as possible the next morning, Mia showed them the way to the guest rooms. Really, it was an entire _wing_ of guest rooms, and they had the pick of the litter. Practically, Edward and Rose chose the room right next to Petunia—who accepted the night clothes handed to her warily but with a polite smile.

They thanked Mia profusely for accommodating them, and Mia told them she’d have breakfast ready at nine-thirty the next morning—which she said with a smile and a “that way you can sleep in properly.” As the door snicked shut behind her, Rose turned to her husband and let out a breath.

“I can honestly say, in all our years of marriage, this was _the most_ bizarre night we’ve ever had,” Rose said, placing her shawl on one of the plush armchairs facing the lit fireplace. (Rose was definitely going to have Edward unblock their fireplace at home and clean out the chimney—she needed a real fireplace again, even if it was smokey and covered her carpet in ash.)

Her husband gave a gruff laugh—the laugh that had first reeled her in all those years ago, and threw his waistcoat on the mattress.

“I’d say it rivals the great sendoff of ‘43,” he replied. “I could’ve sworn we were headed to the opera.”

Rose smiled at the memory and crossed the room to undo Edward’s bow-tie. As she did so, she said, “You were lucky I was already your wife. Any woman worth her salt would’ve been appalled by what happened on that stage.”

“Well,” he smirked, “I thought she was a lovely dancer. Though the fact there were only other service _men_ in the audience should’ve tipped me off.”

Rose snorted. “Yes, her dancing skills aside, though, at least she didn’t pull a wand from under her dress and perform _magic_. Real life _magic_, Edward.”

“I will give you that,” Edward conceded, sinking down to the mattress and pulling her closer—his hands settling firmly on her hips like they always did. “And _damn_, honey. Watching Lily change that glass into a rabbit… I—well, I have no words. She’s amazing.”

“It was a bit strange, really,” Rose admitted. “I know we send her away every year to a _magical _school, but seeing her actually do magic made it all the more real. She really doesn’t belong in our world, does she?”

“Of course she belongs in our world,” Edward assured, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her cheek. She laid a palm on his face and ran her thumb over the scruff of his beard. “It just so happens that we may not fit into hers.”

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Sirius watched Mia and Lily’s mother whisper to each other as they closed the door behind them. He was completely lost in his thoughts—though he wasn’t really thinking of anything in particular—so he didn’t hear the next pronouncement of ‘never-have-I-ever’, he just saw Remus, Peter, and James lift their drinks to their lips.

“I imagine if you lot are drinking that means I should too,” Sirius said, taking said drink. “Why am I drinking?”

“Because you’ve participated in a prank at Hogwarts,” Lily announced.

“Posh, that was the cheapest shot yet,” Sirius argued.

“If I had to drink because I’ve seen _my own body_ naked, then you have to drink right now.” Lily punctuated this statement with a stern finger pointed in his direction. She had officially reached her drunk stage—actually, she had crossed that milestone about twenty minutes before her mother walked in the room, yet she was still managing to hold it together fairly well.

Before Sirius could retort that he had to drink because of that as well, loud laughter from Peter scattered his concentration. His concentration was then scattered for a completely different reason when Remus’s palm wrapped securely around his neck and pulled him in to whisper in his ear.

“New plan,” Remus said, his breath against his skin like a hot iron. “Lily wants Ailana more involved, so we’re targeting her.”

“Mh-hm,” Sirius mumbled, unable to say anything else without the threat of sounding idiotic.

Sirius, ever since telling James that he was gay, had been over-analyzing everything that Remus had been doing. Like now, how Remus’s hand lingered on his neck a couple seconds after he pulled away. James had gotten into his head, saying that Remus _was_ sending out feelers—that he _was_ as interested in Sirius as Sirius was in him. While keeping this hopeful and admittedly wonderful thought on one shoulder, James’s inability to woo Evans made Sirius doubt the validity of his observations.

“Never have I ever spoken Spanish,” Remus said, kicking things off.

Ailana drank, but so did Marlene.

“Never have I ever been a Beater on a Quidditch team,” Lily added.

Ailana drank, but so did Sirius.

“Never have I ever been skinny dipping,” Lily piped in again.

Ailana drank.

“Never have I ever been to Spain,” James said.

Ailana drank.

“Never have I ever drank chardonnay from 1938 under the big oak tree by the Black Lake.” Lily looked mightily proud of herself for this one.

Ailana drank, but punctuated this sip with a glare.

“Never have I ever kissed a boy,” Ailana said before Lily could begin again, pointedly attempting to get Lily to drink, having caught onto the rouse and knowing it was all her doing. Lily rolled her eyes and took a tiny sip of the champagne that James had snatched from the ballroom. Sirius looked around at his friends, at the subdued, absent-minded smiles on their faces, and an odd sense of calm settled over him. He raised his flute to his lips and took a sip.

Ailana zeroed in on this motion, and her eyes became the most animated that he had seen since the loss of her family.

“Who?” she demanded, pointing at him. “How did I not know this?”

Steeling his nerves, Sirius answered, “Remember William Michael? The seventh year that graduated last year?”

“Really!” Ailana shouted, leaning forward in excitement.

“I’m jealous, he was cute,” Lily said, frowning in mock sadness and tipping her head over one of the armrests—her hair dangling like liquid fire and, having come undone from its pins, almost reaching the floor.

“Yeah, he was pretty _‘cute’,_” Sirius conceded, grimacing slightly at the language. Sirius would describe him more as handsome—ruggedly handsome, if he were honest—as there hadn’t been a single ‘pretty’ feature in him. William had been all angles and solid lines, and though that’d been nice at the time because there was absolutely no mistaking any part of him for feminine (good for both his ego and his eventual acceptance of himself), Sirius found he ended up being a bit… _too_ much. Too many angles, and too solid of lines. Now, _Remus_ on the other hand...

“Wait…” Peter said, unknowingly interrupting Sirius’s more than PG thoughts about a certain green-eyed, long limbed boy. “You kissed a bloke?”

“Catch up, Wormy,” James said, snapping his fingers. “That’s why he drank.”

_“Duh!”_ Lily said, her eyes still closed.

“Okay, wait…” Peter repeated. “That means you like boys? Like… _romantically?”_

“Yeah, Pete,” Sirius said, nodding his head. He could feel Remus’s eyes boring into him and he turned to look at him as he finished his statement. “I like boys.”

Sirius locked eyes with Remus, and he couldn’t help but smile in relief when he saw the understanding—and, dare he say, excitement—in Remus’s eyes. He was so focused on those dancing green eyes that he barely heard Peter say, “That’s cool, mate.”

.:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:.

Lily was feeling distinctly fuzzy. She wasn’t _drunk_ drunk—she knew this from her more than blurry experiences of actually being drunk, though she would admit she _was_ drunk a half hour ago—but the warmth still spreading through her chest as she ran her fingers along the walls of Potter Manor was undeniable. James was trailing somewhere behind her, holding her heels in his hand and probably looking completely adorable.

Lily felt even more fuzzy the longer she thought about James. She couldn’t believe how close they’d come to kissing. His lips had only just brushed hers when Ailana had blown into the room like a tornado. She could feel the ghost of that touch—the whisper of that warmth—all the way to her toes. She turned to look at him, walking backwards so steadily that her buzzed mind was proud of her for it.

“You,” Lily said, pointing at him, “almost kissed me tonight.”

“I did,” James said, his eyes flicking to her lips for a moment. “Though I never thought I’d say that I was just as satisfied kissing your cheek as I would’ve been kissing your lips.”

“You’re very forthcoming when you’ve got alcohol running through your veins,” Lily pointed out.

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I’ll fret about everything I’ve said the next time I have an existential crisis—you know, like a normal person.”

Lily laughed.

“I want you to kiss me now,” Lily said, stopping dead in the hallway and looking up at him.

He leaned forward and pecked her quickly on the nose, so fast that she giggled.

“Wrong place,” Lily breathed between giggles.

He pressed another quick kiss to her cheek and she giggled some more. She stepped into the circle of his arms and wrapped her hands around his biceps—holding him steady and smiling up at him.

“Try again,” she said.

A kiss to her other cheek.

“Nope.”

He began peppering her face with kisses—her left temple, her right cheekbone, her right eyelid, her left eyelid, her forehead, her left cheek—before slowing his movements and pressing lingering, open mouthed kisses down the left side of her neck. She gave a breathy gasp and gripped his arms a little tighter, tilting her head back to grant him better access, when he paused on her pulse point. She was hot all over, her skin flushing crimson, and she was pleased to realize he was breathing just as heavily as she was.

_“James,”_ she breathed, closing her eyes and sliding one hand up through his hair to hold his head in place. At her small exhalation of his name, his grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her flush against him—her heels that were clutched in his fist now digging into her back. Surprisingly, though, he stopped his ministrations at her exhalation and just lingered by her neck, breathing her in.

“James?” she asked.

He pulled back, but he didn’t go far. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers.

“It’s late, Lils,” he whispered, “and we’ve had a little to drink.”

She frowned, but couldn’t help that she felt even _more_ fuzzy towards him at this moment.

“How long must I wait for a proper kiss?” she asked, smiling as she twirled a curl of his hair around her finger.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but how about Hogsmeade?” he asked. “Will you go out with me on the next Hogsmeade weekend, Lily?”

“Hmm,” she mused cocking her head to the ceiling. “Well since I have something to look forward to…”

He rolled his eyes and before she could process his movements, he had thrown her over his shoulder. She squeaked in surprise and they laughed together as he carried her down the hallway towards the guest wing. Just before it got to be too much—just before too much blood rushed to her head and the disorientation made her nauseous— he set her right and grabbed her hand. She began swinging the clasped appendages between them as they turned the last corner and made it to the guest wing.

“Yes, James,” she said, looking sideways at him and squeezing his hand tighter when she saw the sweet, whimsical smile on his lips. “Yes, I will go to Hogsmeade with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how much do you guys hate me? THEY DIDN’T KISS JASDFKSA poor james and his raging case of blue-balls. at least they're officially going to hogsmeade together! i knew how this chapter was going to end YEARS ago when i decided to write this fic while in highschool lol, so my headcanon of james asking her to hogsmeade over and over again was still heavily plaguing my mind. so obviously i had to add that last bit in, for nostalgia's sake.
> 
> when i was writing all the soft sapphic moments within this chapter, i felt like a mixture of john mulaney when he says, “i will pepper in the fact that i am gay”, and olenna tyrell when she says, “it’s the only joy i can find in all this misery.”
> 
> in contrast, when i was writing all the angsty sapphic moments, i felt like bella swan in her four month depression after edward left her. 
> 
> i personally love this chapter a lot! these new year's chapters are my favorite that i've written, and i hope everyone else thinks so too. let me know your thoughts :))


End file.
